The Fox and the Falling Man
by crihavoc
Summary: Mitsune 'Kitsune' Konno finds love. Who would've expected it? Certainly, not her.
1. Chapter 1: A man at the Cafe

She had to grant that he made an impression.

At the counter, bored with the regulars and blackly counting the seconds until the loser geriatric case at table seven requested more tea just so he could get an eyeful, she heard the room full of conversations at the busy Cafe Hinata begin to slow and then stop. Mitsune Konno, Manager of the Cafe, saw the sunlight of a beautiful spring day dim at the front doorway, occluded by a huge man. He made an impression and she was the right person to judge: for as long as she could remember she had loved big entrances.

He wasn't sumo massive. He was just plain big. Had to duck his head to step through the door and shift his shoulders so that they fit through. Thick waisted but not fat, perhaps what nature had required to support those shoulders. Whooooeeee, look at those shoulders. His bull neck supported a square- cut head, black hair just over the ear - tops, well defined jaw that squared off with a nice cleft. She couldn't see his eyes behind his shades, but by that point the water she was pouring had spilled over the glass and she had more pressing matters to mop up.

His head turned as he took in the Cafe, and the staring eyes. He shifted his backpack on his shoulder and smiled with suitably large, white smile. "Good afternoon." he rumbled in kansai. With everyone still staring, he shrugged and shuffled carefully through the occupied tables to an empty one. The wood of the old bench made distressed sounds as he seated himself and he froze. He eased himself down with a surfeit of creaking until all his weight was on the bench. It did not explode, so he placed his backpack down and removed his sunglasses.

Now that he was more or less out of the direct line of sight, conversations began to pick up again. Kitsune waved off the server in that section, picked up an order pad and began to sashay over. He weren't no regular... here was some new blood to have fun with. Flirt mechanism fully engaged, boobies at full charge, safety interlocks removed from wit. She made her hips flow like water, confident that he was a- watching.

And, she was right. His eyes were green and openly appraising as she strutted to a stop at the table, their color enhanced by the tan he wore. "Hiya," she said with her off- center grin and a little wave. "You're a big - un, ain't you."

He smiled at her with big white teeth. "Jesus H. Christ." he said in English, after a moment's pause. "That long – ass train ride was worth it."

Her eyes flew open in surprise, mouth gaping. "Damn, boy!" she replied in the same language, "Don't be getting ahead of yourself!"

He snorted. "You got me, I'm sorry, you got me…" He slipped back into kansai. His eyes crinkled as his smile widened (dimples, dimples!).

Her grin back in place, Kitsune asked sweetly, "So, will you be ordering, or should I just stand here and pirouette…?"

"Much as I'd like that, I'm absolutely starving…" He ordered Kare Raisu, green tea and a pitcher of spring water.

"And," Kitsune inquired, innocently, as she marked his order on her pad, "are you here for our famous hot springs?"

He smiled up at her, folding his hands before him on the table. "Nope. But, maybe I'll make the time to take a dip before I move on."

She noticed that his hands were of a piece with the rest of him, large enough to easily encircle her head. Or, other things. And, no wedding ring. With quick efficiency, based on years of field-testing, she mentally registered his possessions for a rough guess at net worth. From shades to shirt, watch to backpack, he was in extremely high quality casual dress (showing minimal wear) and wore it easily. No corporate toady forcing himself out of a three- piece here, this was a guy who dressed as he liked and showed nice taste doing it. She then realized that he probably paid a lot more to find this clothing in a size that would fit his huge frame.

All indicators read: increase flirt, increase flirt. Engage. Her head tilted as the mental gongs began to sound.

He quirked an eyebrow at the odd motion and her glassy eyes. "Are you okay, Miss?"

"Urk. Oh, oh yeah." She could feel herself blushing. She looked around to make sure that the Café staff were taking care of business and that no customer issues were requiring her attention. Satisfied, she placed her rump on the table, just near his folded hands.

"I think," she said, continuing the conversation, "you definitely should try to take a dip. Amazing things happen here, " she winked, "especially with the right person."

His other eyebrow shot up and his lips began to curl. "Really?"

She placed one hand over her mouth, eyes smiling. "For you, probably 'persons.' It's gonna take a lot of time to wash that back of yours." After a moment, she leaned over towards him, resting one hand on the tabletop. "Come on, level with me… if you're not here for the springs, what'cha doin' in Hinata?"

He leaned back on the bench, somewhat startling her, and crossed muscular forearms, chin held between the thumb and index finger of his right hand. "Are you this curious about all of your patrons, Miss, or am I just lucky?" A light seemed to dance in his eyes.

She leaned back as well, placing both hands behind her on the table- top and, with shrug, answered. "When you know the regulars like I do, bud, your always dying for distractions. The run – of – the – mill vacationers are okay, but…" She allowed her eyes to show her frank inspection of him. "But you, big boy, you're just…" She smiled full out, "…lucky!"

He chuckled, a basso rumble that made the whole of his great torso shake. Because he was jammed against the table, it began to shiver in syncopation with his laughter. Kitsune could feel the vibration running up her fundament, a turn of events she found… interesting.

Now, distraction was becoming less and less the correct term.

"Ah, not to change the subject…? But, I'm really hungry."

"Oh." Kitsune said, emerging from her zen – flirt. "Sorry! I'll make sure we get right on that." She jumped off the table, turned and wiggled away. She looked over her shoulder at him and, yes, he was checking her out in a big way.

She put his order in, sent someone back to his table with spring water and tea and checked in to make sure the Café continued to run smoothly. After a short while, his order finished and she picked the food up on its tray. She walked back to his table, noting that he had several spiral bound notebooks on the table top in front of him and was engaged in jotting into one with a mechanical pencil.

"Hiya, big boy. Here's some food to grow on…" She held out the tray. She noticed that he looked much younger when he was startled. She decided that he must be in his late twenties or early thirties.

She placed the food down in the cleared space and watched as he began to eat. He raised his eyebrows at the fact that she remained there, tray in hand, and then she confused him more by taking a seat in the bench directly opposite him.

His eyes looked into hers as he chewed furiously. She was impressed that he didn't attempt to speak until the food was gone (good upbringing, obviously), unlike many men she knew. She smiled winningly as his mouth opened.

"Great food," he said. "My compliments to the chef."

That was not what she expected. He took another bite and began to chew this more sedately, his closed mouth forming a grin. She leaned her head back at an angle, her own grin in place, as if she were a soldat, bore- sighting a particularly lucrative kill.

He swallowed again. "So… not that a beautiful dining companion is undesirable," he said in a puzzled voice, "but aren't you going to get in trouble with the manager for sitting with me?"

She tapped her chest. "Manager."

"Urf." One side of his mouth shot up. "I'm just…lucky?"

She leaned forward and winked. "Better believe it, tough guy."

"So lucky that this…" he spread his big hands to indicate the meal, "…is going to get comped?"

She threw her head back and laughed. "Don't push it, sumo."

He winced. "Ouch, that hurt. I'm a little trimmer than that."

"Then give me something to call you."

"Steve. Steve Seyama." He carefully wiped his hand, and then reached over the table. She held out her hand and found it engulfed, absolutely lost, within his. His hand was warm and dry, slightly rough and hard with what she presumed was muscle.

"Mitsune Konno." She said, eyeing the paw now attached to her hand. Thick fingers, big knuckles, small black hairs sprinkled over the back. He exerted a gentle pressure on her hand with the shake and then released her.

"My friends call me Kitsune." She added, surreptitiously looking at her returned hand.

"'Fox?'" He said, his deep voice rising slightly. Was he making fun of her?

"Yeah. Why, got a problem…" She began, but her words were drowned out by the amazing laugh he gave out, a huge explosion of sound. Again, conversation halted in the Café and Steve, seemingly effortlessly, drowned out any other noise. But, as Kitsune turned her head, she saw that people didn't mind the interruption but were responding to the obvious good feeling being projected. She saw smiles and grins, and then realized that she had been laughing right along with the man.

"Oh, God." He said in English. "Too funny." He shook his head, eyes watering. "Oh, boy. Ohhhh, boy."

"What was that all about?" She asked when he had finally wound down.

He drained the remainder of his spring water and panted slightly, grinning at her in almost a deranged way. "It's your name. Sorry, your nick- name."

She stood, placing one hand on her hip, and leaned over him. "You don't like my name?"

"No," he said, snorting again, "I'm laughing because I love it. It's perfect for you." There was no lie in his eyes, she could see herself reflected in the green depths. She realized he had very thick black lashes. "You are absolutely a fox."

She blushed and realized that, for once, she had no comeback. She had been laid totally bare for the compliment and had nothing in the arsenal to counter his honesty. Her eyes opened wide. "Um, thanks," she stuttered. "I knew that." She finished with a shadow of her normal bravado. She sat down with a graceless thud.

He began eating again, his eyes glancing up. She placed both elbows on the table and cupped her chin as he destroyed the remainder of his meal. It didn't take long and she couldn't seem to get up. At one point he shifted the position of his long legs and his knee touched her leg under the table, ringing through her body like the tone of a bell.

This is wrong, this is very wrong. Flashing amber lights, disengage. Lead, don't be led, do not give up the initiative. You're no schoolgirl, damnit!

He was saying something as he laid his chopsticks down, his eyes alight with private humor.

"I'm sorry? What was that?"

"It doesn't really translate, sorry, don't mean to be rude. My niece watches a TV show on in the states, I don't know if it's shown in Japan…." He gazed at her frankly over the tabletop. "It's not really important. What is important to me is what I'm going to do now."

"Which is?"

"Ask you on a date."

"You… you big pile of crap! You think I'll say yes? You showed up…" She looked over her shoulder at the cat clock on the wall. "You showed up an hour ago and you have the gall to think that I'm gonna… you think I'm desperate enough to… "

He shrugged, and the table moved at the motion. "Hey, I'm lucky. Even you said it. I'll roll the dice."

She snorted and her mouth formed that off- center grin. "Who'm I kidding? Yeah, I'd love to."


	2. Chapter 2: A Debt

Ah, closing time!

Kitsune reached beneath the counter, poured out a small measure of sake from an old ceramic container and shot it down. Just for luck. I gotta date.

Steve Seyama had left some time ago, to sight – see around the town. They were to meet later on and go to dinner. She was going to lead him to the most expensive restaurant in town, have him buy dinner and then drink him under the table. After that, who knew?

Walking to the Café entrance, she unlocked the door from the inside and stepped out into the golden close of the afternoon. She paused and took a deep breath of the scents of another Hinata spring. Her cheeks glowed. She paused, tapped out a cigarette, placed it in her mouth and lit it, taking a deep drag as she re- pocketed the lighter. She turned and locked the door.

She felt someone behind her, and her lips curled around the cigarette. She still had it, he was too eager to wait and meet her where they had arranged. She cocked a hip to call attention to her shapely ass, and then began to turn towards him, grin blooming into a coy smile. Her amused eyes widened and the cigarette fell as she gasped.

There was a big man there, but he wasn't Steve. A second guy appeared and she felt a sudden pain in her arm as a hand wrapped around it.

The screaming began.

It was dusk and the whistle of a departing train haunted the mild spring air. The mixed fragrance from lilys, lilacs and hydrangeas, planted beneath a trellis filled with hanging wisteria, carried down the hill to the Café Hinata, to combine in an odd mélange with the final scents from the Café's closed kitchen. The setting sun sent elongated shadows up and down the town, stretching up the small hill to the Café's walls and limning in orange light the airborne man flying backwards down the Café steps, his feet above his head, his teeth bouncing down the steps behind him. His wheezing scream was far softer than the noise from the train.

Shadow- images on the Café wall showed two giants engaged in a titanic battle, their black legs trailing down the vertical plane and elongating across the grass to attach to two very large men in a kinetic embrace. The men, sweaty, bleeding and gasping mightily, broke apart with great effort and circled each other.

Steve Seyama, bleeding from his nose and a cut over his right eye, his oxford shirt nearly ripped from his thick torso, knuckled sweat and blood from his eyes as he watched his opponent. He interrupted his litany of swears just long enough to bark over his shoulder: "And, you're sure you don't know why they're here?"

Kitsune, hunched over on a rock and rubbing her arm, shrieked "Don't you think I would fricking tell you!" You are such an asshole, came the voice in her head.

The shaved- headed, potbellied ogre of a man shuffling around Steve raised his eyebrows over two blackening eyes. "She lies!" He spit out thickly, his split lip pouring blood over his chin and down his neck. "She owes 760,000 yen to my boss! She gambles!"

Steve straightened from his crouch and turned, unmindful and incredulous. "Seven thousand bucks!" He said in English, his eyes growing even hotter.

Kitsune grimaced as the truth came out. She tilted her head and shrugged. "Okay, maybe I owe some…" I really should have told him. I am such a bitch.

Steve roared, the pure violence in the sound startling Kitsune and sending her scrambling even further up the rock. Before he had finished swiveling his head around he was moving at speed towards the other man.

"Rockfall strike!" the man cried, bringing his clasped hands together in a sweeping downward blow. Steve was struck on the neck and shoulders and driven to the ground, his breath exploding from his lungs with the impact. An ominous cracking sound came from his chest. "Oohh, shit." He moaned.

The other man stumbled backwards, shaking his head. He began to smile and then winced as the motion did further damage to his lip. "Bastard!" he yelled and planted a foot into Steve's ribs. "Ahhh!" he screamed as he belatedly realized he was wearing sandals.

"And you..!" He started to say, turning towards Kitsune. His eyes widened just as her fist connected with his nose. "Urk!"

"We were going on a date, you stupid jerk!" She grated from between clenched teeth. Her fist pistoned three more jabs to the same spot, syncopated to her words: "A - Goddamned - Date!" She winced and shook her hand in the air. "How does Naru do that without breaking her hand?"

The man staggered back a step and drew his hand across his face. "Inexcusable." He spat. "We waited weeks, through your promises of payment and when we finally come to collect…" He took a step forward and grimaced a smile as she retreated, "… you defy us, your guard cripples my partner…"

"He twisted my arm! That asshole had it coming!"

"Shut up!"

He took another step forward and Kitsune found her back against the same rock. Her eyes widened. "Oh, boy!" she said and smiled sweetly. Following her gaze, the debt collector shifted his eyes left.

Steve planted his massive shoulder into the man's unprotected side, lifting him up and driving him into the ground, a spume of blood and spittle following the arc of the man's head through the fragrant spring air and into the soft loam.

"Why," Steve gasped conversationally as his red – knuckled fists began to rise and fall, "does everyone around here have to…" He paused a moment as the man beneath him whimpered. He shrugged and went back to work. "…Have to scream a name for every goddamned punch or kick or crap?" He stopped, staggered to his feet and leaned over the body below him. "Can you tell me that, baldy?" He yelled the question to the unconscious man at his feet.

"Ergh!" he groaned, raising his face to the sky. He reached a trembling hand to the torn breast pocket of his ruined shirt, revealing the cracked and shattered lenses and bent frame of his sunglasses, and threw them onto the ground. "Shit! I knew it, I knew it!" He turned to Kitsune and pointed to the ground. "My Mom gave those to me!" He turned away and began ripping off his ruined shirt.

She walked over to him, his back to her, her arm raised tentatively to touch him. "Are you okay?" She asked. He didn't respond. A fake smile plastered itself onto her features, force of habit, and she embraced him from behind. "My hero…!" She felt extremely cheap as her breasts pressed against his back, but she was at a loss at how to react in the situation and her awkward response was to revert to what she knew.

He shrugged her off, snarling an answer to her original question. "Does it look like I'm okay?"

He started looking around the trampled grass and finally found his backpack. He retrieved a scrap of his shirt from the ground and began to blot at his cuts. She trailed behind him, hands clasped in front of her.

Kitsune eyed the unconscious man on the ground and remembered his toothless partner flying down the steps to the train station at the bottom of the hill. "Ah, " she said, "Steve, as much as you think they kicked your ass, I'll bet they feel a lot worse." She circled to the top of the steps and saw indications of where the other man had fallen, but no sign of him. "The other guy is gone." She said over her shoulder. She bent down to examine something, then straightened. "He left his teeth."

"Yeah, yeah. Ow. Damnit!" His face tightened as he attempted to staunch the flow from above his eye.

She moved closer, looking up at his face. "Here, let me help…" She brought her hands up, but he stepped away.

His return gaze was full of contempt. "You lied to me." He rubbed his hands together and grimaced at the blood on his knuckles, dried rivulets running between his fingers. His knuckles cracked. "No, you used me! Did you know these guys were coming?" At her outraged look, he shook his head. "No, I asked you out, I can't say you manipulated me." He pressed the shirt against the cut and winced. "What the hell are you doing gambling?"

She walked up to him and placed a finger on his chest. "That's none of your business…" she said, and then turned away.

"Hey," he said to her back, "I think it's my goddamned business now." He waved the scrap of cloth, covered with blood, at her. "That's my blood!"

The man on the ground made a sound. "What can we do to make sure that they don't come after you again, when I'm not around?" Steve asked, ripping off the remainder of his tattered oxford. He was left wearing a grey t-shirt, streaked with blood, grime and sweat.

"You'll just have to stick around." She replied in a toneless voice.

Despite his feelings and injuries, he snorted a laugh. "Right, okay." Steve walked towards the debt collector. "Kitsune, unlock the Café. We're going back in. With this guy."

"What?" She looked at Steve dubiously. "I like this mofo right where he is. In fact, you should hit him a couple of more times." The man on the ground, obviously conscious now, shook noticeably.

Steve turned back to her, face in shadow. "Kitsune," he enunciated softly, "if you want to end this problem now, then please do as I ask." In a louder tone, he said "This man fought well, and was doing his job for his boss. Let's be honorable." He forced a chuckle. "I don't think either of us want a rematch right now."

The dept collector said to call him Kogata, which earned a laugh from both Kitsune and Steve. Having been defeated, he was quite agreeable. Especially after Kitsune brought out the sake.

"Seyama – san," he said as he used a moist cloth to clean blood from his face, "it would be best if you did not become involved with this woman." His eyes peered from within their puffy sockets, looking perpetually nearsighted. "She's bad news for you."

"Hey!" Kitsune spun around from where she was standing at the counter. "I'm right here!"

Steve leaned back, arms crossed. "Tell me more, Kogata – san." He asked in a serious voice.

"She has been gambling very much lately, and not paying her debts. She in fact did go on several dates with my boss, and seemed like a nice, fun person, which is why he was reticent to attempt to collect for so long, but business is business…"

Steve nodded, "Business is business, indeed." He turned his head to Kitsume. "So, you went out with his boss, huh?"

Her cheeks flushed. "He was a fun guy… I thought!" She made squeezing motions with her hands. "But he would grope all the time! It was embarrassing. And," she said to Kogata, "you've got to back me up on this: he has a belching problem."

Steve tilted his head quizzically and gave a surprised laugh. "A… belching problem."

Kogata was nodding his head. "Okay, this is true. But he's got a stressful job and his stomach is often upset."

"I told him to lay off the rich food, but would he listen to me? No!" Kitsune, shook her head. "Saiga – sama would just keep burping up whatever he had eaten, continuously…" She grimaced, her nose wrinkling. "It destroyed his breath. Ruined any chance at kissing."

"So anyway," Steve interrupted, leaning forward and placing his hands on the table, "let's end this thing."

Kogata looked up warily, his hand hiding the ceramic sake cup. He quickly brought it up to his lips and down. "End this as in, " he frowned, "taking it outside?"

Steve smiled. "Hell, no." He reached between his legs and lifted his backpack up. Unzipping a large section, he took out a sneaker and produced from the sneaker a large stack of yen notes. "I've got about 300,000 yen here." As Kitsune gasped, he placed the stack in front of Kogata. "Take this as a partial payment, at least to get you off her back." Steve winked over the table. "I don't want you coming back, that's for sure."

The other man nodded and bowed his head slightly, then winced at the pain the motion caused.

Kitsune frowned at her conflicted emotions. Part of her was celebrating: allright! This manfool has fallen for me, hook, line and sinker! I've still got it! But another part, the larger part, was disgusted with her actions. She stepped towards the table and put her hand over the bills. "Steve, no! I can't allow you to do this."

Steve and Kogata wore identical looks of surprise, or as identical as their various wounds would allow, as they gazed up at her face. Then they looked at each other and shrugged. Steve placed a huge hand over hers atop the money. "Kitsune, it's done." Effortlessly, despite her exertions, he raised her hand from the yen notes.

He nodded to Kogata, who reached over and lifted the money. The debt collector began to count the bills. After flipping through all of them, he commented "Three hundred seventy seven thousand, seven hundred and seventy seven yen." He bowed his head. "Very fortuitous for a random pick- up. This was fated." He turned to Kitsune. "Nana-korobi Ya-oki. I'll see what I can do with my boss, maybe we can let this slide for the cash." He jerked his chin at Steve. "You need to keep him around." He grinned. "If he'll stay." He frowned and swore. "One of my teeth is loose. Could you pass that sake?"

"Here you go!"


	3. Chapter 3: Steps

Night had come and Kogata was gone, returning to his boss and promising to call Kitsune's cel phone with an update on her status. The ceramic bottle of sake was gone with him… a little grease for the wheel. The halogen bulbs fastened to the exterior of the Café had begun to flicker on as he left, painting his broad back with their white illumination and reflecting from his bald head like a halo.

Hopefully, he could be some kind of saint for her.

Steve was sitting on the grass slope off to the side of the steps with his back to the Japanese maple, gazing at the lights of the town. The cicadas were engrossed in an insect opus and the sound seemed to be putting him to sleep.

Mitsune Konno regarded his nodding head from where she stood at the base of the steps, nursing another cigarette; the breeze lifted her short hair away from her face. _This is another fine mess you've gotten into, Kitsune._

As Steve shifted his position she heard a stifled groan and the noise finally decided her. She mounted up the steps past him, tossed the cigarette into mouth of the resin ash urn they kept for such things and then walked over to him.

She sat next to him, her knees up and her legs splayed to either side, in her skirt a decidedly unladylike position. She was glad it was dark. It was amazing how much heat he gave off.

"Steve."

His head jerked higher. She could tell his eyes shifted towards her by the light reflecting from them.

"Yeah?"

"Are you…" she swallowed. "Steve, do you want to come with me?"

"What? You think we're still going to dinner? I'm sorry, but I've got no money."

Her eyes closed, her mouth pinching, in embarrassment of what he had done earlier that evening. "No… well, we could have dinner. Steve, come with me to where I live, Hinata House. It's at the top of this hill."

"And, why, exactly," his deep voice rumbled next to her, "would I want to go anywhere with you?"

There was a pause, and then Kitsune pushed herself to her feet. "I was thinking," she said in a flat voice, "that you could use a hot soak after the pounding you took earlier. Hinata House has one of the finest outdoor baths in this town." She turned away as her hands fumbled in the dark for another cigarette. "But, hey, I can understand why you wouldn't want to come." Her off- center grin appeared, invisible in the darkness and uncharacteristically self – mocking. She cursed softly at the difficulty in lighting the cigarette due to her trembling.

A large, warm piece of the night gently steadied her hand. Her eyes closed as the night wind carried the smoke in a swirling eddy around her head, and his head next to her. Very warm, indeed.

"I don't smoke." He said.

"I'm sorry." She replied. "I don't think I can quit tonight."

She finished the cigarette slowly. He held her hand the entire time.

He was moving very stiffly as they climbed the stairs, traveling from light pool to light pool beneath the night sky. "So, you live in this Hinata House. What is it, a hotel?"

"It's a woman's dormitory, but I don't know if I could describe what Hinata House really is. You need to experience it." She smiled in the darkness. "It is Home."

She reached over and took his backpack from him, then almost lost her balance at its incredible weight. Gamely, she thrust her arms through the arm loops and shouldered the thing, regretting every cigarette that had ever deposited ash in her alveoli. She stifled her cough, she felt, masterfully. It was an indicator of his exhaustion that he mutely accepted the help.

They climbed for a little while in silence.

"Home." Steve spoke. He had picked up on the significance of the word to her. "'Home is where the heart is."" He said, in English. He translated the quote into Japanese.

She nodded "That is true. The people that I live with are more of a family to me than my folks. At Hinata House I've got sisters and a brother…but, I could never tell them that's the way I feel."

"Why not?" He stopped on the step, and rotated his right shoulder in its socket. "Urgh." He said, unhappily. "Why wouldn't you tell people that you care so much for how you feel."

Kitsume felt her face flame. She looked off to the side, into the deeper darkness near the gardens, and thought that she saw the milling sparks of fireflies.

"You don't have to answer if you don't want to. It's okay…"

"No! It's fine…" She felt her hand scrabbling towards her cigarettes and she forced it to stillness. "I'm… it's not part of my personality, to tell them, to share…that."

"I'm sorry, but what the hell does that mean?" His voice questioned. "You love someone, you say 'I love you.'"

"You don't understand! Living with those words, especially with this group, is never easy. It can cause a lot of, ah, complications." She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Look, I'm going to set this down before I dislocate my arms, okay?"

"Yup. Let's sit down."

" You hurting that much?"

"… Yeah."

"I've been there… shit, seven years, I think?" She looked up at the lights, her smile so wide her eyes were nearly closed. "Time is sometimes kind of hinky at the House. Heh."

He slowly sat, his legs overreaching two sets of the long steps so that his heels settled on a third. She sat next to him, her legs folded under her demurely.

"I've lived with these people for all this time and I've been the party girl of the bunch. I'm not big on introspection…"

"Really?" She could sense a grin without looking.

"Look, I like the way I am. I liked to party, back in the day. Less now, but still I like to have fun." She took a deep breath. "I don't think I've talked to anyone about this, as much as I love them. They say sometimes it's easier to talk to a…" Her voice stumbled to a halt. "Err."

"'Talk to a stranger?'" He finished her sentence. "I'm not offended by that. We did just meet today, despite what happened. I don't think 300,000 yen buys that intimacy." After a moment, hearing her giggle, his tired mind processed what he had said. "Ah, that came out wrong…"

"I know where you were going." Her mouth twisted in a moue of confusion. "There's always been this understood relationship between all of us." She hesitated and then dug out her cigarettes. "I've really got to quit these, soon."

"Steve," she exhaled with smoke, "sometimes it's easier to be one dimensional. To occupy a steady position, like a rock, as the tides swirl and crash all around you." She shrugged, took a drag and let her head hang. "I'm pretty much exactly the same as I was seven or eight years ago. I haven't had to change myself while everyone around me has, has grown."

She took another puff, killing the cigarette. She reached down and placed it on the concrete, shifted her shoe on top of it and twisted with a particular vehemence. "I think I should have gone on to college. I get the feeling that I'm going to be the girl that everyone looks at in the rearview mirror as they drive off to do something amazing." Her smirk returned. "Granted, I'll look great in the reflection."

"If they're your family, do you think they'd leave you behind."

"No. In fact, I know that if I ran away or went missing they wouldn't rest until they'd tracked me down."

He paused, thinking. "So, why are you worried? I mean, I like the metaphor about the rock in the tide but the one thing is that, despite high tide or low tide, the water's still there. Flowing around the rock." He made a thoughtful sound. "Can you say that the ocean embraced a rock?" he asked, his voice light. "I think we're stretching that one a little too far."

"I think we've stopped making sense. Get up."

"Oof." He groaned as he stiffly got to his feet. "I need a beer."

As tired as she was physically, Kitsune's thoughts were a shinkansen as she walked besides Steve up the steps.

_Why am I telling him all these things? This stranger, this guy I met today? Do I feel guilty because he got smacked around and blew all that money on me? I was just going to use him and abuse him, at the start._

_Use and abuse…God! I did the same thing with Keitaro, when I first met him! Do I ever think about building relationships, or am I hardwired to do some kind of emotional smash and grab?_

_And, it's been so long since I've really built a relationship with a guy. Have I lost that ability? How will I ever…_

_Ever…_

_I want what Naru and Kietaro have… I can't believe it, but it's true._

_With Steve? I couldn't make that call now… maybe. We just met. Steve is a place- holder for 'male.'_

She tilted her head, eyebrows raising, eyes shifting towards him. _A place- holder with a lot of potential… let's be honest._

_This is all Naru's fault!_ She cried in her mind, part irritation and part humor. _She's the one that's got me thinking about this shit._

_Her and the baby._


	4. Chapter 4: The spirit of Hinata House

Cherry trees bordered the rising staircase for the last part of their climb. Kitsune heard Steve sigh in relief as the top of the illuminated roof of the Hinata House came into view. Each progressive step revealed more of the architecture, illuminated by colored lights. Limned in a similar glow were the neatly manicured grounds: more mountain cherry trees, standing with white oak and combined with landscaped shrubbery, hydrangea and golden lily flowers.

"It's beautiful…" Steve said as they reached the final step and stood on the path leading to the front door. Kitsune tried to remember what it was like to see the House for the first time. She was with Naru, and they both stood for awhile, mouths agape, not only at the size but the fact that they were going to live there, away from their homes, in a new adventure. She looked at Steve and saw that his eyes were closed, a small smile on his face. The breeze that had cooled them during their climb had fallen into a lull and she could hear frogs conversing nearby. The moon, dimmed only slightly by the house's illumination, hid coyly behind a skim of night clouds. They were both bathed in a diffused and ghostly glow.

His eyes opened and he saw her scrutiny. His smile widened. She found herself smiling in response and marveling again at his dimples. "I feel… I feel like I used to feel when I went to see my grandparents." He said, softly. "I didn't remember that feeling until just now. I didn't remember missing that feeling." He looked back at the house and it seemed to Kitsune that his eyes held the gleam of tears. "There's a surprise in there, for me. Bones didn't lie."

Kitsune raised an eyebrow, not understanding his last statement, but Steve took a long stride forward and she had to run three steps to catch up. She couldn't see any shadows in the doorway beneath the traditional portico, nor did anyone call a greeting from the engawa encircling the second floor of the House. Several of the windows were illuminated, but that was no guarantee that residents were home: since Koalla Su had installed the Molmol military grade pebble bed reactor in the basement, blackouts and power issues were of no concern to Hinata House: the lights could burn and air conditioners run all day and night.

Two tall ginko trees stood near the front entrance and Kitsume and Steve walked between them. The glass door slid open and they were in the genkan. She looked up at him, winked with her grin in place and then comically minced several steps in front and turned to face him, directly before the elevated floor of lobby and the slipper assortment arrayed there. She bowed very low and said: "Irrasshaimase, honored guest!"

He chuckled and straightened his posture, filling the entryway. "Why, with such attractive staff," he said in a comically gruff voice, "it will be difficult to restrain myself." He raised his eyebrows several times and leered at her. "So I'd like you to … get me some tea, please."

She threw a slipper at him and it struck him on the forehead.

"Nice shot!" He said. His eyes wandered as he took in the waxed and time- worn golden wood of the floor, the decorations, plants and furniture in the lobby and the crisscrossing beams of the ceiling. The scents of cedar and furniture polish and flowers filled the atmosphere, but something was missing. After a moment Kitsune realized she did not smell food… usually, Shinobu had all manner of items on the stove in the kitchen at this time of night. She frowned.

She saw his eyes widen as he looked left and made out the steaming, inviting expanse of the rotemburo through the doors.

He moved his head to the left. "That's the bath you were talking about earlier, right?"

She nodded.

He grinned. "I am soooo in there."

To the right was the rarely used check – in counter, from when the dormitory was a hotel. A large rectangular flat screen monitor was on the counter top, angled to face the interior of the lobby. "I wonder where everyone is?" She said. She removed her shoes, donned the Bonta - Kun slippers she had left earlier in the day and shuffled to the counter.

"Um, Kitsune…"

She looked up. He was blushing as he looked at the slippers before him. He raised his head and shrugged and she laughed, such an obvious thing. "Nothing in your size, huh? What'cha gonna do there, big boy?"

With a grunt, he lowered himself to the floor of the genkan, went into his backpack and took out new socks to replace the soiled, sweat- stained pair he was wearing.

She turned her attention to the monitor on the counter. "Let's see where everybody's at." She said. She felt Steve slide in behind her.

"What's that?"

"Sort of an electronic roster of the residents. It'll tell us who's in the House and who's not."

Kitsune slid her index finger past the symbol of three eyes in a triangular pattern on the center bottom frame of the monitor. Next to the symbol was a small black rectangle. She placed her finger on this for several seconds. With a soft hum the black screen began to glow.

A cartoon Stephen Hawking slowly made his way from the left of the monitor to the center. "Kaolla Tech," the professor's synthesized voice stated, "kicks ass!" Digital flames began to lick out from the bottom of his wheelchair and it accelerated upward. "Banzai!" the professor exclaimed. Just before the figure disappeared beneath the top frame of the monitor, the three – eye – triangle symbol appeared within the flames and glowed a brighter red.

"That's new…" Kitsune said with a frown.

Steve snorted. "I hope his lawyers can't find that on the Web."

Kitsune looked over her shoulder and grinned. "One of my friends, a resident here named Koalla Su, is something of a tech – savant. She's got a very offbeat sense of humor." She raised an eyebrow. "She's also a princess in the royal family of Molmol. She'll be able to handle any lawsuit."

As if on cue, a line of text began to scroll across the center of the monitor: "Today's Hinata House Naughty Moment, starring Mitsune Konno."

"Hey, wait a fricking minute, here…" Kitsune mumbled, even as Steve said: "Okay, now this is interesting…"

"Date: today, Time: 07:42:38." The text bounced around the monitor for a bit and exited, stage right. Kitsune paled, her mouth moving soundlessly. She pivoted. "Nothing to see here, heh heh, you must be tired and hungry, definitely hungry, heh heh, let's go get some grub." Kitsune raised her hands, placed them on Steve's chest and began pushing him with a desperate strength, her face a smiling mask.

"Stop." Steve said. He picked her off the ground and turned her around towards the monitor, his arms gripping gently. When she began to slide her way sideways away from him he picked her up and held her under his right arm, suspended several feet above the floor. When she began to kick him he canted her at an angle so that her feet flailed the air behind him. "Stop, I said. I want to see this."

"Nooooo." She whined. One eyebrow and one corner of her grimacing mouth began to twitch uncontrollably. "I am going to hunt you down and kill you, Su…"

A thin white line appeared through the middle of the black screen and expanded into a letterbox format view of a hallway, obviously somewhere within Hinata House with the same style floor and decorations. The grainy texture of the image disappeared as the still view resolved into action.

There was an undefined sound, almost like a loud buzz, and a muffled male voice raised in what could be called panic coming from off camera.

"Get that thing away from me, Kitsune!" The same male voice sounded, clearer to the listeners and growing louder as the speaker approached the microphone. The buzzing sounded again, also closer, and the male voice yelped.

A thin, medium – sized man dressed in a black t- shirt and jeans backed into the picture from the left. His dark hair was long enough so that spikes of it fell over his eyes and he jerked his head to the side in an unconscious gesture to clear his sight. His face was a study in discomfort, his hands held out in a defensive gesture in front of his body. Glasses with thin rectangular frames slid down his nose as he looked at whoever stalked him. Another buzz sounded in the microphone and the man's fingers twitched. "Kitsune!" he said, with exasperation, "No!"

The thudding sound of running feet could be heard and several youthful female voices giggled off camera, then the noises stopped suddenly. The same voices spoke simultaneously:

"Kitsune…? What are you…?"

"Oh, my…"

"That's not the banana one that I gave you for Christmas, Kitsune…"

The earnest face of the man in the frame showed concern and fear. "Get away from her, Shinobu! Su, you and Mutsumi should know better than to encourage…"

"Keitaro…" Kitsune's voice lilted through the speaker, "Better get your ass in gear! I'm frisky and takin' no prisoners!" The man, Keitaro, assumed a look of abject terror. At an explosion of giggles out of the picture he resumed his backwards trot.

Kitsune, still locked under Steve's arm, slumped. "This is very bad." She whispered. She felt the earth move and realized that Steve's body was shaking with contained mirth. She snarled and struck him open- handed across his back. The solid impact had little effect except to bruise her palm.

Kitsune appeared within the frame on the monitor, wearing a man's oversized button- down oxford as her only visible clothing. As she padded towards the recoiling Keitaro her face was curled into a wide and evil grin. In one hand she held a glass of what looked to be orange juice. In the other, the source of the loud buzzing noise, was a footlong rod of what looked to be red plastic, one end rounded to a blunt point. Her thumb pressed down and the item began to undulate in her hand. "Get over here, sweetie." She chortled. "Ohhh Mama!" More laughter came from off- screen. Keitaro left the angle of view.

"Run, sempai!" A bell- clear soprano exhorted the man, and he must have taken the advice. Kitsune's eyes widened on the monitor and she began to stride forward and out of the frame, her voice saying: "Oh, no you don't Mr. Sneaky!"

After a moment of silence came a male scream and several loud crashes. Kitsune's voice could be heard, laughing like a harpy. Something blurred past the screen, for all the world like a turtle swimming through the air. Keitaro reentered the picture, creeping right to left, his back against the wall of the hallway, his eyes so large that they seemed to be bugging from his face, held in only by his glasses.

"Stay back, Kitsune! I'm a married man, damnit. It's not right!" He jumped as the buzz began again, growing louder. "Kitsune! As landlord…" his voice cracked and he rolled his eyes. He began again in an exaggeratedly deeper voice. "As landlord, I demand that you stop this right now!"

Kitsune's hand entered the frame bearing its noisy burden and Keitaro exited off – camera with a muffled swear. There was another crash, and he could be heard to say "I'm sorry, Mutsumi..."

The Kitsune reappearing in the frame had an aggressive body lean and her devilish half – grin seemed to burn through the pixels. Her figure began a throaty laugh and the screen faded to black.

"Everyone lived." Appeared on the monitor, along with the familiar three – eye – triangle.

Steve, bright red and close to the breaking point, awkwardly let Kitsune's feet touch the floor while maintaining a loose grip around her waist. Tears were popping from his eyes and his posture took on the desperate urgency of a man with dysentery. "Hrumm, hrumm…" he gasped, "Bwah – hah – hah- hah!" His breathless voice was unable to reach the volume or tone that had filled the Café earlier in the day.

Kitsune crossed her arms in exasperation and nailed him with a keen elbow shot to the side, resulting in additional gasping on his part. She eyed his big hand on her hip. "Let me go, you stupid male. It wasn't that funny!" She said without heat.

She did, however, nothing to remove the hand herself. She turned her head away from him, as if in disgust, but her lips trembled and the edges turned up as he continued to laugh.


	5. Chapter 5: What's cooking

The flat – screen monitor cleared itself of text and an image of Hinata House filled the background. A turtle shaped window opened, occupying the left portion of the screen, populated with several words of text in column.

Steve, wiping his eyes with the palm of his free hand and still gasping for breath, looked down at Kitsune. "So," he said, voice almost normal, "is that the roster you were looking for?" He choked out another laugh and held his plate sized hand up. "No, no, I'm sorry… I'm done. Heh."

Kitsune rolled her eyes. She turned her face to the screen and her attention focused. "That's the main menu." She walked in front of him and stepped to the screen. Her finger touched the word "LOCATOR" and another turtle shaped window appeared, filled with icons representing each Hinata House resident. "Let's see where everybody is at…"

She pressed her own grinning face and a transparent schematic of the main Hinata House opened. A graphic of a nine – tailed, red furred fox appeared in the space designated as the Lobby and began blinking. Next to the fox, a question mark began to blink as well. "System has scanned you, Steve. You're the big- assed question mark." She grinned and winked up at him. "Definitely the right reference."

She pressed the icon for Keitaro Urushima. A shovel appeared in room 203, the building manager's apartment. The shovel began to spin. "The landlord, Keitaro, is here. He's working, though."

"Based on what I've seen in the last few minutes, I could make a comment…" Steve interlaced his fingers, reversed his hands and extended them in front of his body, resulting in a large cracking noise from his knuckles. He smiled winningly down to Kitsune. "…but I won't."

"That type of restraint is wise, big boy." She turned from the screen, reached up and pinched his cheek, causing his self – satisfied smile to slip. "You're a – learnin.'" She released him. Surreptitiously, his hand crept to the cheek and rubbed.

"So, you like to tease the poor guy…" he asked, finally. "I take it he's the 'brother' you talked about?"

She nodded. "It's been pretty amazing to watch him grow up." Kitsune smiled, eyebrows raised, in an expression of disbelief. "Keitaro is not only the landlord, he's a pretty well respected archeologist." She leaned forward and whispered theatrically, "Heh. This may be an inside joke, but Keitaro's success proves that miracles really do happen."

Steve frowned in puzzlement. "Shouldn't he be exploring a 'dig' or something? What's he doing here, research?"

"Nope. Thanks to more tech magic…" Kitsune tilted her head. She stared at his face for a moment, her eyes moving back and forth as they examined his features.

"What?" he asked, uncomfortable with the scrutiny.

"You look like hell, honey. Those bruises and that cut over your eye…" she chuckled. "You look like a real dangerous guy. And…" she tapped her chin with her finger.

"I'm okay, thanks. Really. 'Tech magic?'" He prompted.

She blinked and then resumed her explanation. "Anyway, so that he could stay close to home Su built Keitaro a 'virtual simulator.' Right now there's some kind of expedition in Central America that requested his help and they've got 'virtual Keitaro,' a little robot turtle thingamajig with a camera that transmits information from the site to him here. He does his thing for them and everybody's happy." She snapped her fingers. "And, he uses it to help out with another dig in Molmol that's been going on for years…"

"But, why didn't he just go if he's so in demand as an archeologist? Doesn't he have to get out there?"

She sighed. "His wife is pregnant, and he won't leave her side for anything." She smiled again. "It absolutely shows what kind of guy he is… I tease him and give him a hard time, but it's because I love him. He can be a wuss and an idiot and a clumsy perverted fool who some days can't find his ass with both hands…" Her smile did not change. "But he is absolutely the truest soul that I know."

Her finger moved over the screen, to the smiling icon of an attractive young woman with two unruly shocks of hair. "Speaking of Naru…" In the other room of the building manager's apartment a graphic appeared of two hearts, red and pink, one inside the other, beating in rhythm. "Oop, Naru's home with her hubby. She's in the bedroom, I'd say she's taking a nap before dinner."

Quickly, Kitsune went through the other icons listed: Shinobu Maehara (the graphic of a box of matches and a red hood) was scheduled as being at a late class at Tokyo University; Koalla Su (the omnipresent three – eye – triangle) was listed as 'location unavailable'; Motoko Aoyama (a golden bird in flight) was listed as in transit from Kyoto; Mutsume Otohime (a ripe watermelon with a pair of round rimmed glasses) showed a location of the Tokyo University library; Ema Maeda (a lizard) was listed as 'location unavailable.'

Kitsune blew upward, pushing strands of hair away from her face. "Well, that explains why you can't smell food." She shrugged and looked over her shoulder at Steve. "We're on our own for dinner."

His stomach growled loudly. Looking slightly abashed, he shouldered his backpack and ducked his head to avoid the square light fixture near the desk. "So, seems like a lot of you go to Tokyo University…"

She began to laugh. She shook her head, winked at him and shuffled past in her slippers, heading down the hall opposite the front entrance. "Let's get some fuel."

"What? What did I say?" He trailed after her.

_What happens after we eat? _She thought as she walked. _It would be absolutely rude and ungrateful to send him away. Besides,_ she checked her watch, _it's almost half – past nine._

She turned her head and looked at him trailing her down the hall. Even as obviously tired and bruised as he was his green eyes were alert and curious, looking into those open rooms they passed and admiring a hallway tokonoma with its floral decoration. _I don't know how I feel. But, I don't want him to leave. Not yet…_

The walked into the dining area and passed the long low table on their way into the kitchen. Kitsune fumbled with the light switch in the dark room, filled with lingering ghosts of spices past. The LEDs came to life, reflecting from the metal surfaces and tile walls of the House kitchen. As if in recognition, Steve's stomach again growled.

"The kitchen." Kitsune said dramatically, extending her arms. She sat gracefully down on a stool next to the thermal tea server and spun on the circular seat, back arched and one leg extended with pointed toe, the other bent with the foot hooked into a brace between stool legs.

Steve dropped his backpack near her seat and walked around the kitchen, until he was standing on the rectangular patterned rug in front of the stainless steel sink. It seemed that he gazed out of the four – paned window, until she realized that the window, facing darkness as it did, was now a mirror and that he was observing her profile reflected in the glass. She felt a low heat on her cheeks and sat a bit higher on the stool.

"Hey." He said finally, "Do you mind if I try and fix you dinner?"

" What, you don't trust my cooking? You had no problem with the meal at the café." She arched an eyebrow and frowned. _Not that I cooked it, and it was Shinobu's recipe prepared by the staff chef… but he doesn't need to know that._

He held out his large hands in a placating gesture. "No, not that at all. It's just…" he shrugged, "Let's just say it's a habit, okay? I cook."

"Rrrrreally?" Kitsune purred, leaning forward on the table, chin perched on the back of one languid hand. She closed one eye in a slow wink. "So, let me get this straight…" she began, addressing his back as he began to open cabinets, drawers and the refrigerator door. She lost track of what she was trying to say as her eye followed the shape of his body through his clothes: the flex of his shoulders as they moved, the thoughtful cast to his face as he did his mental tally of possible ingredients, and his strong, confident movements as he maneuvered through the unfamiliar space. He squatted suddenly, bending his knees and bringing his eyes closer to a lower level cabinet. His rear was nicely outlined against the fabric of his pants.

"Um, err…" she stumbled, eyes opening wide. "Let me get this straight… you're tall, very strong, help damsels in distress AND you cook?"

He shot her a glance over his shoulder and she saw a flash of white. "Yup."

"You…" she concluded, "…must be a serial killer." She waved her finger at him, crossing her legs. "Or some kind of deviant personality, attempting to lure a defenseless and innocent maiden such as myself into your web."

He stood up straight and slowly turned. "So, you've figured me out…" He shuffled closer towards her at the table, eyes wide, head twisted to the side. He leaned over the table until their noses were inches apart, and she again marveled at his features and the depths of his eyes. "You don't have to worry, " he whispered, "because I think we both agree the innocent maiden thing…" he shrugged slightly, crows feet showing at his eyes as he grinned, "…ain't you." He abruptly backed away and turned back towards the sink. "I happen to think that the sexiest women are mature and confident in themselves."

She grinned. After a moment, she frowned. "Mature? You better not be talking about my age, pal."

He chuckled as he began to pull ingredients from their various locations in the kitchen and placed them on the counter. "Why is maturity a bad word, Kitsune? It means that you're better now than you were when you were younger." Closing the refrigerator door, he flipped cucumbers in the air and caught them deftly, placing them on the counter with tofu and stalks of bok choy. "I apologize, by the way, it looks like you're out of cabbage. I'm substituting bok choy." He retrieved several mixing bowls from cabinets above the counter and began measuring lemon juice, wasabi powder and other ingredients into them.

"Fine with me. What are you making?"

"Some good, quick recipes my mother taught me, salad – type stuff from where she was born in Kyoto. I've got to tell you…" he half- turned from the counter, "Whoever keeps this kitchen is an expert, it's amazing."

"I'll pass that along, I'm sure Shinobu will appreciate it." He nodded in response as he began to whisk his mixture in one bowl with quick strokes. _If he's cooking, I should get booze._

"Hey, Steve? There's beer in the refrigerator, but I'll be right back with something special to drink with dinner. Private stock." _That bottle of Karatamba should do nicely…. Um, I didn't drink it already, I don't think..?_

She shuffled through the kitchen as he placed a mixing bowl in the freezer. Stopping at the doorway, she turned back. "You do like sake?"

He looked up from a shitake mushroom, knife in hand. "You bet." He smiled. "I'd love some sake."

"Okay." She kicked off her slippers began to jog down the hall to the staircase.

The Karatamba was still in her mini – fridge and nicely chilled. She had actually finished the Daimon Shuzo, junmai ginjo from Osaka, the other night while cheering the ponies on. _That was a shame, based on our talk about innocence and maturity I could have gotten at least two good shots in with the sake as a prop. _Bottle neck in her fist, she bounced down the stairs two at a time. _I wonder where this energy is coming from?_

She could smell and hear heated oil as she neared the kitchen. The table was partially set with some of the square green ceramic plates that Shinobu loved, and an opened bottle of Waoh pale ale dripped condensation on a paper towel in front of her stool. In a serving platter next to the plates, Steve had served thin cucumber slices, coated in some type of spice mixture. He stood at the stove, sipping from a bottle of Sankt Gallen pale and shifting mushrooms in a wok over the stovetop. She put her slippers on again and shuffled into the room, blowing stray strands of hair from in front of her eyes.

"Have a cucumber." He invited. "They're actually supposed to be chilled but, hey, what you gonna do?" He quickly left the wok, went to the freezer and removed the bowl he had placed there, then resumed his station at the stove minding mushrooms. He took a wire- frame ladle and began removing marinated tofu from the bowl and placing the pieces in the wok.

She placed the sake bottle on the table, picked up her beer (removing the towel that came up with the sweating bottle) and took a long pull. The cucumbers did look inviting, so she took his advice. The spice – coating seemed to be a mixture of vinegar, salt and ginger, and very good. The moist crunch of the vegetable served to deepen her hunger and before she knew it she had eaten several of the slices. She licked spices from her fingertips, then heard a stool pull out and realized that he was sitting at the table across from her.

"Either your concentration on food is amazing, or you were goddamned hungry, Kitsune." He smiled and reached across the table to place a bowl in front of her. "Here you go, Seyama – style shiitake and tofu slaw." He toasted himself and took a sip of his beer. "Thanks, Mom."

"Wow!" She said, and meant it. The browned tofu and mushrooms were tossed into a bed of bok choy and covered with a fragrant dressing. It smelled divine and she told him so.

"Thanks. Now, let me know how you think it tastes." He raised his eyebrows, and then started in on his bowl.

They had finished eating and had cleaned the kitchen together. Kitsune found two antique cups decorated with the kanji for Honor and Strength and poured the sake.

They toasted the meal and Steve for preparing it, then again toasted Steve's mother for passing down such delectable recipes. Kitsune utilized the natural segue to indulge her curiosity.

"Okay, big boy, it's finally question and answer time…" she leaned back on the stool, crossed her legs and winked at him. She allowed her half – grin to spread slowly across her face. "You're mom is from Kyoto and you speak Japanese with a kansai accent but you're an American…" She raised an eyebrow and tilted her head in a prompting gesture.

"Mom's family moved to California, the Bay – area. Dad was in the army based at the Presidio. They met…" He smirked, "…this is really lame. They met while shopping for souvenirs." He grunted a laugh, grinned at her and folded his arms. "So, I'm an army brat. I lived in seven countries before I hit eighteen." He shrugged and drained his cup. "Despite how much she loves dad, Mom was horrified that I might become completely gaijin and so she gave me some pretty intensive lessons on 'civilized culture and language.'"

Kitsune leaned forward and refilled his cup. "So, why are you here? I mean, at Hinata. Did you already visit Kyoto?"

He took a sip from his cup, and then another. It seemed to her like his cheeks were coloring, although with his tan it was difficult to tell for sure. "I've been to see my relatives in Kyoto on several occasions. About ten years ago, when we performed our visit to the Fushimi Inari Taisha shrine on Hatsu- uma I literally got sick on kitsune cookies." He grinned. "I wasn't in a position to appreciate the irony until today." He drained his cup and stood. "Um, bathroom?"

She gave him directions and as he walked away she ran her fingertip along the slightly rough rim of her ceramic cup. _And Hinata? That was a nice little story about Kyoto that didn't answer any question. _She leaned both elbows on the table and cupped her chin in her hands. _I'm in no position to force him to talk about what he's doing here. But… I really want to know. _She gave a smile filled with self – mockery. _And if he's trying to keep some thing private that I want to know, well, he doesn't stand a chance. He's played right into my strengths, poor man: prying into other people's business, manipulation and drinking. _She made a sound that could have been a laugh or a sob. _As much as you try, you can't change who you are. I really want a cigarette. _

_As soon as he comes back, he's going to change the subject. That will mean he doesn't want to talk about why he's here. _She frowned again. _I hope he doesn't, I hope that this is just a bathroom break and I'm reading too much into this…_

Steve returned, smiling. "You know, I don't think I'm going to be heading back to my hotel in Tokyo tonight. I'm thinking I should talk to the landlord now and see if I can rent a room for the night." He bent over, retrieved his backpack from the floor and slung it over his shoulder. "Hopefully, given the circumstances, he'll justify allowing a man to stay in a girl's dorm. Could you lead me to his room?"

Kitsune stared up at him with a blank face for a few long seconds. Then she smiled brightly, her knuckles white around the cup of sake. "Sure, Steve. Let me finish my drink." She threw down the remainder of her drink and then planted the cup onto the tabletop with a loud rapping sound. "I tell you what, " she said, "just in case, I'm going to bring the bottle."


	6. Chapter 6: Virtual reality bites

Kitsune and Steve reached the top of the stairs and headed down the hallway. A green lambency could be seen flickering from behind and under the shouji dividing room 205 from the hallway. The polished wood of the floor reflected the strange light, adding an ethereal quality to every step forward. She could smell ozone.

"Does the Hina House rent to a lot of overnighters? I mean…" Steve chuckled, "travelers and folks on business trips?"

Kitsune forced a grin. She really wanted to brain him with the bottle of sake. "Steve, shhhhh." She placed a finger to her lips and raised her eyebrows. "Remember, Naru is sleeping."

His face flushed. "Jesus." He said softly in English. He continued in Japanese. "I'm sorry."

She smiled and nodded. _Abashed, contrite, off- balance and ready to spill… pushin' buttons._ She stopped at the sliding door outside of the room and for a moment watched the strange lightshow. Above the door was a lacquered section of stump with "Naru and Keitaro Urashima. Landlords" written in hiragana. She leaned her back against the door and pressed her ear to it. Through the panel she could make out Keitaro's voice speaking in low tones, so she brought her hand up and softly knocked. There was no answer.

She looked at Steve, shrugged and knocked again, a little louder. Again, no answer. He raised his eyebrows and gestured with his head. She nodded, and slid the door open wide enough to admit her head. She saw that Keitaro was in his virtual simulator. _Cool._ _Let's throw Steve "I've- got- a- secret" Seyama a curve!_ She grinned snarkily to herself. _Heh. _She slid the door the rest of the way open and gestured for him to follow her.

They stepped up onto the tatami mats in the room and Steve stopped short, mouth agape. Half of the apartment was dominated by a car- sized wire- frame ball, constructed of a whitish material that Kitsune knew was an industrial strength construction product but which looked like aged ivory. Small three – eyed nodes within the construct projected pictures and text onto slim, mist- filled plastic rectangles that ringed the interior circumference. These projections were the cause of the pervasive greenish glow. The ball was surrounded by a number of box – shaped electronic components and connected to a thick sheath of cabling that circled the periphery of the room before riding a metal pole up through the "pervert hole" in the middle of the ceiling into what used to be Naru's room. The atmosphere had the weight and scent of the air before a particularly bad summer lightning storm, emphasized by a continuous and low thrumming sound she could feel through her feet.

Suspended several feet above the floor in the cavity at the middle of the construct by a harness, clad in a t- shirt, shorts and white socks, was a thin human figure. It had a metallic oversized head and three eyes and was performing what looked like drunken sign language, colored wires dangling from its moving fingers.

Steve's eyebrows came down and he squinted at the figure. He tilted his head to Kitsune, motioned toward the contraption with an extended thumb, opened his mouth to speak… and then shook his head and squinted across the room some more.

"Yep," Kitsune jerked her chin at the figure, "that's the landlord. He's wearing a special VR helmet designed by Kaolla that, according to what she says, gives him a 360 degree view of what his little robot sees." She blew a strand of hair out of her eyes. "Whatever hand movements he makes somehow direct how the robot moves where it is in, I think, Venezuela."

"That, " Steve said finally, frowning at the hanging figure, "looks really uncomfortable. That big – ass can on his head, I mean." After a pause, his lips rose. "The rest, well… it has some potential." He gave her a sidelong glance and wiggled his eyebrows.

_As if! Back off, pal, I'm still pissed at you!_ "We all tried it and … stop it, we tried the helmet! You know what I mean." She gave him a basilisk glare. "You can see it leaves the nose and mouth clear so you can breathe and talk. It's padded and, even thought it's got some fans inside there, it gets very hot." She began to step over data and power cables to approach Keitaro.

"Kitsune!" Steve said in a loud whisper.

"What?"

He pointed to her hand, and she realized she was still carrying the sweating bottle of sake. She pivoted, took a step and handed it to him. She turned and resumed her navigation of the clutter until she had picked her way to within a few feet of the occupant.

"Keitaro?" She said. She could see his mouth was moving in a continuous mutter. She stepped closer, mindful of the advice she had given to Steve earlier about loud noises. "Keitaro?" _He was strapping himself into this thing after we ate breakfast this morning… Shit, he must be beat!_

The head jerked up and Keitaro muzzily asked, "Kitsune?" The helmet began to turn as he tried to identify the source angle of her voice. The blind gaze of the glowing three – eyed emblem on the mask slid away from her and towards Steve where he stood, drinking sake out of the mouth of the bottle. "Now, that's a damned big heat plume." Keitaro whispered, still dazed. Steve, noticing the attention, froze with the bottle at his lips. He shrugged.

She stifled a laugh behind her hand. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about, Keitaro, I need…"

"Kitsune," he interrupted, "Shouldn't you be at work?" The helmet began to descend and Keitaro's fingers twitched slightly in reaction to some transmitted stimuli from the Western Hemisphere. "I still think that that Chaco pottery was used in the Etzalcualiztli bathing ceremony, Professor Vasquez…" he said under his breath.

_Etzal – what? He's so totally out of it. _"I closed the Café down over two hours ago, Keitaro."

"Que?" he replied, suddenly distracted. "Oh, that's why you're here, it was closing time…"

His wired hands began to motion again inside their zone of curdled light, continuing for nearly a minute. She tapped her foot, counting seconds. Then, Keitaro's hands stopped and the helmet jerked upright. "Closing time?" He asked, unsteadily.

His head moved from side to side within the confines of the helmet. "But it says right here in my HUD that it's… HOLY CRAP, THAT'S NOT A CLOCK?"

"I'm a dead man!" Keitaro choked in a horrified voice. His hands scrabbled towards the harness, but were unable to grip it due to the sensors on his fingertips. Losing composure, he began to kick his legs, suspended above the floor.

"Naru's going to kill me… got to get down!" He stretched his legs and toes towards the floor, but encountered resistance from the springy fabric of the harness straps. His efforts caused him to bounce in place, a slight up- and- down dip that grew rapidly into a major pogo. "What the hell?" He wailed, metal head turning left and right in exasperation. The bobbing continued despite his best efforts at braking. "What the HELL!"

"You've got to release the harness… Keitaro, calm down a second and I'll…get you…" Kitsune attempted to lean in and grab the straps. No good. Keitaro's motion was going to require a pretty drastic effort on her part to provide help. "Keitaro, stop bouncing!" She grasped a portion of the strut at her side and forced herself forward, one foot rising from the floor in the process.

"Meigetsu-in Temple…" he said as he rose and fell, his hands pulled up and down by the fingertip wires, his head tilting. "Evening hydrangea tour… beautiful dragonfly day…Naru and baby… colors of sunset…"

"You're… uff… babbling. Almost got… it…" She wiggled forward, stretched a bit farther and got one hand around the harness release. She realized at that moment that her posture, with one leg up in the air for a counterbalance to her body lean, gave Steve a straight look up her skirt.

"Shit!" she said, flushing as her hands instinctively clenched. The pressure of her fingers triggered the release and Keitaro was dropped to the floor several feet below. Three noises occurred simultaneously: a startled, impact- interrupted scream, the dull clang of his helmet striking the floor mat, and the heavy thud of the rest of his body.

She winced. "Eww! Sorry, Keitaro..!"

She glanced over her shoulder and saw Steve was crouching, red- faced and wracked with laughter. _So I mooned him… what the hell is my problem? _She turned on her heel and purposefully high- stepped her way around the boxes and cables. "You!" She hissed as she approached him. "You son of a bitch! You could give me a hand, you know!"

"Your expression…" He pointed at her, a broad grin on his face. "Oh, oh my… " Tears were starting to show at the corner of his eyes as he doubled up with laughter. "And, and him… oh, the poor bastard, oh God…" Steve looked like he was going to eat the palm of his hand, it was so deep in his mouth in his attempt to stifle his laughter. "Erk! Bwerk! Hk – Hk – Hk!" To Kitsune it sounded like Seta's van turning over. "Oh, man, Bones..!" He coughed, shaking his head.

_Bones? _A motion caught her eye and caused her to turn. Steve craned his neck around her to look. Keitaro, on unsteady legs, walked past, hands at his chin and fumbling for the helmet strap. _Oh, no!_ " Keitaro, watch…!"

Her warning was too late as, going in the wrong direction, he walked into the virtual simulator headfirst and staggered back. "Shit!" He squeaked desperately. He made an unsteady about- face and began walking away from the ball, mouth set in a tight line. His fingers finally made headway on the helmet strap and the velcro began to rip open.

"Keitaro, the wire…!" Again, her warning was too late. The cable connecting the helmet to instruments in the interior of the wire- frame construct stretched taut in mid- step and whipped him backwards towards the ground. With a pop the helmet ripped free of his head and shot towards the ball, then deflected off one of the structural members and ricocheted into the air back towards him. In a heap on the floor, he opened his eyes just as the helmet slammed down inches from his head. The three helmet eyes glowed red for an instant and went dark.

Kitsune looked back at Steve and saw that he had a hand over his face. Two fingers were split wide, revealing one eye. That eye rolled towards her and then back to the disjointed movements Keitaro was making from where he lay on his back.

"That was effed up." Steve said, muffled voice tinged with awe. "I mean, 10 on the Three Stooges scale."

"You have no idea." Kitsune bent over, grabbed the bottle from the floor and took a long slug. She handed it to him without looking and he did the same.

Keitaro, sweating, eyes crossed and glasses askew, began crawling across the floor towards the bedroom door panel. "Reset… reset." He was mumbling. "Hydrangea aztec robot turtle." He stopped, shook his head woozily and took several deep breaths. He attempted to rise and, with Kitsune's help, stood. He lurched forward.

Kitsune, concerned, trailed behind him. She watched as he managed to slide the door open and make his way inside the bedroom. The antique lamp on the mahogany table in the corner filled the room with a warm amber light, a vivid contrast to the cyan illumination next door. The only sound audible here was the deep and steady breathing of the shape beneath the blanket. _Sleeping for two…_

Keitaro paused at a book – laden kotatsu in the corner, and sank to his knees. He turned back to her in the doorway. His eyes were heavy with exhaustion, his face marked by his misadventure, but he seemed to be tracking. "Kitsune," he whispered, then yawned hugely. "Kitsune, you're at the Café tomorrow?"

"Um? Yeah. Yes I am." _Why…?_

" 'Kay. I've got a…" (yawn, eye rub) "…friend who should be stopping by. Could you keep an eye out…" The rest of the sentence devolved into an unintelligible mumble as his head sank to his chest. He shook his head again and placed his glasses atop a textbook on the low table. He crawled to the futon and gingerly rolled his length next to his wife, sighing deeply. Kitsune watched the two lying there, husband and wife, while memories of their extended and bruising courtship streamed past her mind's eye. She blinked and started to close the door.

Keitaro's head came up. "…America…" he said, clearly, sleep- drool collected at the corner of his mouth. His head sank back down.

_WHAT? _She thrust her head into the room. "Keitaro…!" A grunt. "Keitaro!" He didn't respond.

"Keitaro?" Naru mumbled and turned to her husband, hands together at her breasts, forehead nearly touching his.

_CRAP! Can't wake Naru! _Kitsune bit her lower lip in frustration, growling deep in her throat. Softly.

Kitsune could see light reflected from under Keitaro's nearly- closed lids. His hand slowly reached up and touched his wife's cheek. "Sleep…." he murmured gently. "…love." His hand came down and covered hers.

"MMMmmmmmmkay." Naru answered. She wiggled her head deeper into the pillow and was still. The curve of her belly was visible even underneath the blanket as she was.

Kitsune listened for a few additional moments. She slid the panel shut and stepped back, her head down. _Does that mean that Keitaro knows Steve? If so, what's Steve's game… why wouldn't he have mentioned it?_ She tapped her chin, one eyebrow raised. _But, Keitaro was so out of it… he could mean 'South America,' talking about work. Hell, it could mean anything! _

Her emotions continued to roil. Frustration keyed on Steve, both for what he avoided saying earlier and for a possible lie of omission about knowing Keitaro. She also was awkwardly bothered by the intimacy of the married couple. _What am I feeling? Envy? Jealousy…? That's not like me… like freaking out over showing some ass. I mean, this is ME. _A thought occurred to her and she covered her mouth in horror. _Shit, is this what you feel like when you hit 30? Is this early stage thirty- pause? _She looked beseechingly at the ceiling. _Haruka, where are you when I need you!_

"Everything okay?" The rumble of Steve's voice close by her ear startled her. She took half a step away, her eyes wide, afraid the story of her thoughts was written on her face.

"Look," she said, "Steve…" Then stopped. Her eyes searched his face and then focused at eye- level on the cliff of his chest beneath the stained gray t- shirt.

He looked confused at her reaction. "What? He said I can't have a room?"

She snorted a laugh and grinned. "No, no, we'll improvise something. Come with me." She put her hand on his forearm and led him out of the room. "I need a cigarette." _Let's go have a little discussion, big boy, where no one will bother us. _


	7. Chapter 7:Interlude, A Debt II

Tokyo. Shibuya.

The broken- toothed little man was lisping an apology into the night air, but Kogata was in no mood to listen.

"…and I wathn'th thinking thraighth afther thath basthard thucker punched me." The man, Kenji, peered up hopefully through his thin spikes of blue hair. And ventured a small, apologetic grin. "You unerthan, righth, buddy?"

Kogata grinned himself, but it was the expression that an Inquisitor might show to the one standing on the tinder. "Sucker punched, my ass! What the hell were you thinking?" Kogata moved his head down, pushing his face close to the other man. "A former girlfriend of Saiga- sama and you manhandle her?"

The man's sallow cheeks puffed out in indignation. "Wath the problem? We were thold to collecth the debth and I wanthed to make thure thath she couldn'th run." His black eyes flashed. "You thaw the guard she had! Thath's more than Thaiga- thama was expecthing, righth? Bethideth…" the man, Kenji, said with difficulty, "…I'th been thrying tho sthow more enthuthiathm in my work. My athrologer thaid thath ith the key to thusher succeth."

Kogata's eyes widened, and then narrowed sharply. "Future success, eh?"

"Yeeeeeeeaaaahahhhhhhhh!" Kenji's response was attenuated by the speed with which Kogata grabbed his shirtfront and pulled. He held his erstwhile partner up against the alley wall, the smaller man's feet dangling above the wet and trash- strewn street, as the reflected neon and LED lights blazing nearby scrawled alien alphabets into the puddles around them.

"Kenji, I thought maybe, perhaps, there was some potential for you in this business…" The big bald man dropped his head and shook it dejectedly. "… unfortunately, it requires a bit of intelligence, some good judgement. Qualifications you've proven you lack. And…" he growled, dragging his other hand across his cheek, "…you've been spitting on my face since the moment you opened your mouth." He threw the smaller man into a particularly noxious pile of garbage. "Here, this will improve your chances of future success better than anything you've done up to now." He turned and walked away. "Jerk- off."

Kenji tried to stand, slipped and fell deeper into the garbage pile. His shaking fist appeared between several plastic bags, and then the middle finger extended. "Thucker!"

Konaga continued on his way to his appointment with Saiga – sama. He dreaded the meeting. He strode through the tiny parking lot of the Azabu Market on his way towards Hiro Crossing, rudely making the harried valets work around him as they shuffled expensive automobiles around at breakneck speed. No one protested, not with his bruised and bloodied anvil of a face. Embassy gaijin were stacked four – deep to get through the foreign – goods store before the doors shut for the night. It looked like tonight's vehicle of choice was the Mercedes.

His blood- shot eyes narrowed at the pain of his headache. Saiga – sama. This was going to thuck. Ah…suck. He smoldered as he realized that Kinji – douchebag's lisp had already subverted his thoughts. Thushermucker!

He switched to the other side of Hiroo Shopping Street to avoid the jets of water the street cleaner was spraying, striding past the brick – shaped Bank of Japan branch and Meidi Ya Foods. There was a hell of a commotion down at Arisugawanomiya Park and a cop ran past the back- lit columnar façade of the Plaza and down the street, mouth glued to his radio handset. Konaga kept his head up and walked on by, his lips lifting only slightly as the distracted man of the law received an ankle – high dousing by the cleaner.

Soon enough, Konaga was standing in front of his personal hell on Hiroo Shopping Street: 'karaoke corner.' Hiro Saiga loved karaoke, always revving up a night out at Smash Hits or AidorU or URAStar JP, but the attractionof such activity was beyond his own understanding.

He was recognized by Saiga's boys on the street and pointed towards AidorU. Instead of a bell on the entrance, a cheesy digital sample of Queen declaring how they would, they would, rock him pierced his ears as he walked beneath the club signage and entered through the smoked glass foyer. He understood that much English, at least. Shith. The staff took one look at his face and immediately directed him over the shag carpet, past the high backed, button- upholstered pink vinyl booths and geometric pastel LEDs of the large main customer area and through the brushed steel rubber- edged double doors into the smoke- filled VIP Lounge.

There seemed to be a large man convention in the Lounge, with Saiga's boys and more than a dozen other bulky men that Konaga didn't recognize as "businessmen" or local law enforcement, but who were definitely a single party. Several men in the group were wearing jackets embroidered with a three- sakura emblem that plucked at his memory. He thought they might be military, to a man they looked like tough bastards. There was a tense vibe in the room as the two crews eyed one another, the performances and over – loud laughter couldn't disguise it.

Well, all his boys were doing was singing, tonight. And, speaking of singing…

Sagai – sama was on the light- struck stage, his lanky frame in a brown tweed double – breast, a matching pork – pie on his head. As the rotating stage – lights passed over him the golden ankh on his dark tie gleamed like a beacon. His eyes, however, remained fully shadowed behind his shaded lenses. He was crooning Dean Martin's "Everybody Loves Somebody, Sometime," with two young women sandwiching him at the waist, his pinky raised from his grip on the wireless mike.

As the last lyrics hit the air, he raised his arm and let it fall in a dramatic sweep. "Thank you," he smiled as his boys applauded and then covered his mouth with his hand for a moment. He kissed the two women on each cheek. The one with the cat tail rubbed at her nose and when Sagai looked away she exited the stage. The black- bowed maid kept her manicured hands firmly on his tweed, her crimson lips locked into a smile.

Sagai handed over the microphone and exited the stage with a bounce, the maid in his wake. Spotting Konaga, he gave a small grin and indicated a nearby booth with a jerk of his chin, then swept up his female friend in one arm and whispered in her ear. She nodded and thudded away in her thick- soled black boots towards the bar, apron strings trailing behind her. Konaga grabbed a chair from a nearby table, placed it before the booth and sat down. Sagai patted his shoulder heavily as he swiveled his body into the booth to face him.

"My friend, my friend…" he smiled, and removed his glasses. His dark eyes, for now, were concerned as they took in the bigger man's visible injuries. He took off his hat as well and placed it on the table top. "…did my lovely Fox take exception to your visit? She hasn't forgiven me for what I did to drive her away… whatever it was…and took it out on you?" He twitched his head to the side to clear hair from his eyes, raising his eyebrows to underline his frank and amazed interest. "What the hell happened to you?"

Kogata cleared his throat. "Saiga- sama, I succeeded only partially in the task that you appointed to me." He reached into his pocket and removed the roll of bills he was carrying. "Three hundred seventy seven thousand, seven hundred and seventy seven yen."

"Now, that's an odd amount. Kitsune had that much ready for you out of what she owed?"

"Not exactly." Kogata took a breath and began to relate his encounter with Kitsune and with Steve Seyama at the Café Hina. Hiro Sagai's face flushed when he heard of the actions of Kogata's partner.

"Idiot! Whoreson! Kogata, take two…"

"I've already spoken with the fool." Kogata interrupted, gently.

"You didn't kill him, did you..?"

"No, no… actually, Seyama- san beat him quite severly, there was little I needed to do to add to his discomfort. I merely explained to him that his services would no longer be required within the organization." He rubbed his smooth head and grinned. "I believe he'll be considering his mistakes during the many hours he'll be spending in a dentist's chair."

His boss nodded curtly, and then cocked his head. He turned his head to the stage and Kogata followed suit. Three of the largest men in the group bearing the three – cherry – blossom symbol were on stage, belting out a song in English the likes of which he had never heard. Their companions were standing in their places at various tables, singing along. It was no pop – tune, more like an anthem. The two men watched in interest as the song concluded and every singer's glass was raised. The shortest of the large men on stage made a final comment into his microphone, glasses were slammed to tabletops and the three men left the stage.

"I'll be damned," Sagai commented with a bemused smirk, "if I know what that yatsu just said. What's up with that?"

Kogata shrugged. The honest and off- key voices he'd just heard sounded better to his ears than the standard saccharine melodies he usually suffered through. Not something to say out loud.

The other man sighed in response. "Doesn't matter. So, I'm sorry, this 'Seyama – san'? The big man you said was with my sexy Fox?" Sagai indicated Kogata's injuries. "Did he…"

Kogata nodded. "He beat me unconscious…"

Sagai- sama grunted in surprise, his jaw tightening.

"… and then with Kitsune brought me to the Café and helped to treat my wounds." Kogata reached into his jacket and removed the green ceramic tokkuri and sakazuki Kitsune had given to him, placing them onto the table. "We shared sake." He shrugged mountainous shoulders. "I must tell you that it was an understandable reaction after Kenji's mistake. I hold no grudge, he was honorable to the extreme."

"Oh." Sagai's eyebrows rose again. "And, the money…?"

"His, provided on Kitsune's behalf as a gift. She was as surprised as I was and attempted to refuse."

Sagai was silent for a while, his face settling into neutral lines and his eyes losing their candor. He studied Kogata, who sat patiently under the examination. Finally, he leaned forward, one eye obscured by the fall of his hair. Both hands lay flat upon the tabletop. "And what's your real take on this, my friend? I trust your judgement as my eyes."

"Your chances at reuniting with Motoko Konno romantically have been reduced to zero…"

Sagai pushed himself backwards and slapped his palms together in annoyance. "Well, shit…!"

Kogata continued. "…however, your chance of getting back the money she owes you has never been higher."

Sagai grimaced. "It's not the money, my friend. Kitsune makes my blood boil, with her sexy hot body and her need to raise hell… and the fact that you can have a conversation with her!" The grimace settled into a small frown as the lanky criminal crossed his tweed – clad legs and moved his hat so that it sat upon his knee. A long finger tapped his lips. "Crap." He grimaced again and belched, holding a hand over his lips.

Wasabi. Thought Kogata, thinking of Kitsune and surpressing a smile. Thushing nasty wasabi.

Sagai waved with his other hand. "And this other man… he must be pretty formidable to do what he did. Did Kitsune… shit, you did say zero, didn't you?" He rubbed his face in his hands. "Ah, hell and damnation." He shrugged, and replaced his glasses. "At least I'll get my money back.

"Already, this is more than you expected."

"Yeah, yeah… it was good to have some connection to her, even though…" The thin man shrugged again. "We had some good times…"

"She said as much… she mentioned your time together."

"Ahh!" His boss smiled in delight. "She feels the sorrow at what could have been." He replaced his hat and lowered the brim appropriately with a smooth thumb – and – forefinger snap. He waved to the girl in the maid outfit, who had been orbiting the bar and glancing over for the last several minutes. She smiled brightly and started a heavy – footed trek back to his side.

"I'm sure…" Kogata answered, neutrally, "that's exactly what she was thinking, Sagai – sama."

"Her loss. I'm buying a Lotus. She was always keen on my wheels, heh." He winked in a decidedly smarmy manner and began to walk away, then halted and turned back to look at Kogata. A chesire – grin slowly curled his lips. "My friend, I've just had a great idea for our next performance… inspired by your beautiful face…!

Oh, shith!

Kogata had no choice. At Sagai- sama's insistence he was pressed up onto the stage and his role in the next performance was defined. To his gigantic embarrassment, a guitar riff started and his boss announced to the room: "This is the Eye of the Tiger!" Hiro Sagai and his maid then launched into the song by Survivor.

Kogata waited painfully for the guitar at every chorus and then, as he had been directed, thundered "Dum. Dum – de – dum. Dum – de – dum. Dum – dum – dummmmmmm." The pastel – colored LEDs seemed to waver before his eyes. It was incredibly awkward, although the audience seemed to think it was quite funny. Especially the cowbell at the end, not part of the original song, one of Sagai's 'improvements.'

Then, mercifully, it was over.

The maid exited the stage. Sagai – sama covered his mouth with his hand and belched. He turned to Kogata and inclined his head. "Great job, my friend." Obviously he thought that Kogata's grimace was one of modesty at the compliment. He signaled Kogata to get closer with a flick of the wrist. "Say, are you going back to see this Steve Seyama character when you go to get the remainder of my money from Kitsune?" The words echoed around them, and Kogata realized that Sagai had not turned off the wireless mike dangling from his fingers.

"Sagai – sama!" He reached out and removed the microphone from the hands of his boss, thumbing the on / off and bowing slightly. "It looks like we've got some defective equipment here!" He said loudly. The stage manager, horrified that such comments had been amplified, nodded vigorously.

Sagai's mouth gaped in surprise at his gaffe, but he recovered quickly and rounded on the manager with a nervous jerk. "Next time, make sure that this equipment works properly! I don't want my words to be, ah, wrongly interpreted…"

"Yes, sir." The attendants scrambled. Eyeing the audience, Kogata could see that several of the men wearing the sakura emblem were conversing animatedly and casting glances towards the stage. Shith, just our luck if they're slumming NPA Security Bureau or Vice. The maid attempted to glom on to Sagai - sama and he sent her to the bar again. She clomped off, eyes sharp as knives.

Kogata and Sagai re – seated themselves at the booth. "Those guys are really getting agitated." Sagai commented, sotto voce behind his hand. He removed his hat and placed it on his knee as he continued to monitor developments at the other table across the room. "Oop, someone just got 'angry dragoned' and isn't happy."

"I've been watching." Kogata made himself grin and waved over Hayakawa- san. When the the bowling – ball of a man with the buzz cut presented himself, Kogata made a big deal of locking him in a 'friendly' choke hold. Through his clenched teeth, Kogata whispered "Something could happen with those other guys with the cherry blossoms, everyone watch their backs, no one goes to the shitter alone… make no move until they do!" He finished with a loud laugh, released the other man and pushed him playfully away. Hayakawa – san took a moment to dramatically straighten his suit, laughed and walked back to his table, where he put his arms around the men there and began talking urgently.

Kogata yawned and stretched his arms out widely. "I'm exhausted… I'm too old for this shit." Sagai – sama winked at him, then stiffened.

Kogata looked over his shoulder as one of the other group, the shorter man who had made the final comment on the microphone during their last song, pushed back his chair and began an approach. Kogata made eye contact with Hayakawa – san and shook his head.

The man was very broad in the chest and his nose had a decided cant to the left. He had the pale lines of several small scars marring his tanned forehead and the back of one ear was folded forward slightly. His eyes below his unibrow were calm. He stopped perhaps six feet from their booth and bowed, a bit more deeply than was called for. "Forgive the intrusion on your evening, gentleman." He said in a rough but surprisingly cultured voice. "But I was hoping that you could answer a question…?" He tilted his head and smiled suddenly, large hands opened upwards. As he smiled, Kogata felt some level of familiarity with him and his eyes narrowed. His eyes shifted to Hiro Sagai, who was disguising his apprehension with a casual pose.

Sagai shrugged slowly and pulled his glasses down on his nose so that his eyes could be seen. "What question, my friend?"

"Forgive me, but I believe I heard you say a name a moment ago, a name I'm familiar with. Did you say 'Steve Seyama?'"

Sagai – sama leaned forward, pose forgotten. "I did say that name. Is he a friend of yours?"

The other man's face became serious. "We, " He indicated his companions with a thumb, "heard that he was in Japan. We've been hoping to see him for some time." He smiled again, but there was much less good cheer in the expression. "Could you describe him to me, so that I can make sure it's the same man?"

Sagai looked at Kogata, and then the other man did as well. Kogata cleared his throat. "A big man, larger than me, taller than any of your friends. Very muscular, especially around the shoulders and neck. Black hair, green eyes, speaks with a kansai accent." He paused to gauge the man's reaction: he was extremely intent on the description.

When it was clear that Kogata was done, the man raised an eyebrow. "Was there any indication you got that this Steve Seyama was an American?"

"American!" Sagai – sama's hands hit the table loudly, making everyone jump. "Oh, sorry." Sagai stood and held his arms out. "Everything's okay, my bad!" He sat back down, grimacing. "An American!" He said, again, not liking the taste of the word. "No wonder she likes him. Shit."

Kogata and the other man exchanged glances and shrugged. The man raised a hand and barked a name. A young – looking man, one of the slimmest in the sakura – wearing group, leapt to his feet and ran over. The new man thrust a hand into his pocket, and suddenly the room was full of sounds as men leapt to their feet and chairs fell over. He pulled out a cel phone, raised his head innocently and looked around at the commotion. Kogata sighed as the sudden tension dissipated.

The first man crooked a finger at the other, motioning his head close. When the slimmer man leaned forward sufficiently, the other whacked him softly across the side of the head. He turned to Kogata and inclined his head towards his fellow. "This is Cherry," he said, rolling his eyes, "he's an idiot."

Kogata said nothing.

The man looked at Cherry and said, "Call him."

"Here?" Cherry replied, his eyes roving the club, incredulous.

The man's eyes narrowed. "What did you say?"

Cherry stiffened and nodded. "I'll call him right away!" He ran back to his original table, where he was struck across the head again when he sat down. He began to dial feverishly with one hand, rubbing the impact point vigorously with the other.

"My name," the first man said, extending a hand Western style, "is Miuchi, Tak Miuchi." The name again touched a familiar place for Kogata, but he ignored the feeling and took the man's hand, naming himself. Miuchi introduced himself to Sagai – sama as well. Sagai, feeling more comfortable, called for his maid.

"Kogata? They call you 'Tiny?'" Miuchi's eyebrows rose and Sagai snorted at his expression.

"It's an 'in' joke. I prefer not to have my real name known."

Miuchi – san shrugged, then winked. "Whatever… " He turned to Sagai. "Anyway, Cherry is calling a man that we were hoping you might speak to…"

"About Steve Seyama? The possible American?"

"Ah, yes."

"And how long do we need to wait?" Kogata asked.

"Not long, I understand he's in the area tonight."

Kogata and Sagai exchanged glances. Sagai, suddenly enfolded from behind in his woman's embrace, smiled unguardedly. He pointed at Tak Miuchi. "It's going to cost you, my friend…"

Several rounds later, Cherry quivered next to the table, leaned forward and told Miuchi that the man had arrived. Cherry pivoted to go, but was called back to the table. Miuchi motioned him to lean closer and the younger man squinted in expected pain. Miuchi patted him gently on the cheek, however. "Good job, kid…now show the old bastard in. Bring him right in here."

Cherry's smile nearly split his face in two and he rushed across the room and out the door. Miuchi shook his head and laughed. "Oh, what a cherry…!"

After a moment, the double doors opened and Cherry ushered an older man into the lounge. As one, Miuchi – san's group stood and, confused, so did some of Sagai – sama's men. The old man looked around, his face neutral, then spotted Miuchi and began to walk towards their table. The man was over sixty, his hair cut short and completely silver, his face tanned and set in strong lines and crow's feet, chin projected forward to the extreme, seemingly past the tip of his prominent nose. His carriage was straight, his build stocky, and he was dressed in a three- piece blue pinstripe with a crimson school tie.

"Tak." The man said, his eyes flickering over the group, lingering on the maid for a moment. "Yukio," his eyes shifted to Cherry and back, "said that Steve Seyama is in Japan?"

"Yes, sir. Tiny here," The older man's eyes widened slightly as he understood Miuchi meant Kotaga, "gave me a description that I think matches the gaijin's." The elder frowned and Miuchi quickly concluded. "I wouldn't have bothered you, otherwise."

The man was silent for a moment, and Kogata realized that the entire lounge had gone quiet. "How did the meeting go, sir?" Cherry asked, startlingly loud. Miuchi rolled his eyes.

The old man shifted his stance and looked at Cherry, who began rapidly to fidget. The silver – haired man relented, then, and scratched at his nose. "Our sponsors are not happy with us, Yukio. The meeting went poorly."

"Oh." Cherry said, deflating. The old man shook his head and turned back to Miuchi. He reached into the breast pocket of his blazer (such was his charismatic power that not one of Saiga- sama's boys flinched) and withdrew his bill- fold. He opened this and extracted a folded photograph, which he handed to Miuchi. Miuchi unfolded the photograph and gazed at it, his brow clouding.

"Is this the man you met?" He said finally, and placed the picture in front of Kogata. Sagai extricated himself from the maid's embrace and moved to look over Kogata's shoulder.

A sweaty Steve Seyama smiled up from the photograph, slightly slimmer but easily recognizable in a shot that captured him from the waist up. He was dressed in a dirty and stained uniform, stars and stripes prominent on the shirt, a patch featuring an eagle over the left breast. He was wearing a close- fitting white helmet that allowed only a shock of black hair over the forehead. He had his arms over the shoulders of two similarly attired and disheveled men of close to his own size.

Kogata raised his head, his gaze traveling across the faces of those at the table. "This is him."

Tak Miuchi sighed strongly and took a mouthful of beer. Cherry closed his eyes and looked ready to faint. The old man's expression did not change as he regarded the photo from upside down. Then he turned and said, voice raised, "It's him." He turned back to Kogata. "Where is he?"

"Hinata."

"Hinata… and how did you meet him?"

Kogata related the circumstances around his trip to Hinata and the result. He felt no need to lie to the old man. He had recognized the uniform that Steve Seyama was wearing. The men wearing the three – sakura emblem were not affiliated with the police at any level, and the familiar tugs at his memory were now in a recognizable pattern. He smiled as he realized just what he had encountered earlier in the day, how he had been overpowered.

"Seyama – san used the money that he had to provide a partial payment on the debt to my boss," he inclined his head to Sagai – sama, "owed by the woman."

The old man was silent, considering the information. "I should be disgusted." He grated. Then, startling, he smiled, revealing strong yellow teeth and a light in his dark eyes. He again pulled out his billfold. "This is what I will do." He said, with great conviction.

Kogata nudged Sagai – sama with his elbow. When the old man explained himself, Hiro Sagai was intrigued, despite himself.

Meanwhile, the maid began to flirt with Cherry.


	8. Chapter 8: Sake and a Second's Grace

Kitsune reached the top of the annex stairway and stepped out onto the flat portion of the roof. She moved to her right, away from the clothesline, so that Steve could exit the stairwell behind her. Her tired eyes opened wide at the majesty of the sky, framed in the skirling and luminous ghosts of clouds blown landward by the altitudinal breath of the nighttime onshore winds. The moon, benevolent and shining eye of Izunagi, again traversed the Bridge of Heaven, floating above a trackless river of stars. It seemed as if every flower bordering Hinata house was exhaling with perfumed breath soft devotions to the god of night.

Even she, armored as she was by experience against the unbridled urges of the heart, was tempted to swallow the questions and irritation she felt and embrace the romantic possibilities vibrating through her, carried by the currents of her senses. A breathless voice hummed "_…this time, seize this moment, act and remember…_"

_Wait one goddamned minute, subconscious. Throttle it down a fricking notch, okay? It's not that romantic…all right, maybe it is… but if he doesn't tell me some truth, I'm going to kick his butt! _She nodded sharply to herself in emphasis and set her jaw.

The warm evening breeze was trailing through the laundry hung on the clotheslines to her left. She looked over her shoulder, where through the wooden rails edging the deck the lights of the city of Hinata could be seen, mellow as a well – banked fire. Further beyond was the encompassing darkness of the Bay.

Steve took a breath and released it as a massive yawn, covering the lower half of his face with a big hand. "I think I'm losing that second wind." He turned in place, the flats and angles of his face a study in shadows cast from the single bulb lighting the base of the stairway. His green eyes turned to study her. "This is nice, if dark… this where you guys have your barbecues?"

Kitsune closed her eyes for a moment, and turned herself to face him. _Ask the question!_ A moth fluttered between them and disappeared down the stairs. Steve was grinning at her, now, but the words she needed to say wouldn't release and her irritation began to build exponentially. "Sometimes." She answered him, grinding her teeth. He seemed oblivious to her internal tension and continued to examine his surroundings.

He gestured with his chin towards the waving sheets and other items suspended on hangers. "Someone forget to take their laundry in?"

Kitsune began to cross the short distance across the deck, and then stumbled when she remembered whose laundry was hanging there. _Oh, shit! _"Ah, I guess…" she endeavored to sound casual.

He squinted at the assortment in the dark and did a double take. "Nice taste in thongs… is that bra made of vinyl?" He made to walk closer. "Wow, panties to match..!"

"Steve," she said stridently, "it's very rude to be poking around in someone's laundry." _Especially when it's MINE._

She paused to make sure he took the hint, and then sank down on the wood, turning so that her back was supported by the cross posts and struts in the railing. She extended her legs out before her, careless in her skirt, her slippered feet pigeon – toed in. Steve followed behind her, carefully placing the sake bottle down next to her hand and then dropping his backpack as he eased himself down. She could feel the railing flex slightly when his bulk leaned against it. "Nice night…" He commented.

She smiled woodenly and found her pack of cigarettes. She took her time with the lighting ritual, allowing her emotions to settle until she finally blew smoke upwards, obscuring the heavens from her view. "Steve," she turned to him, head tilted and one eyebrow cocked, cigarette dangling from the corner of her mouth, "…before he passed out, Keitaro said that I should be on the look out for a friend of his coming to the Café tomorrow." She paused and let the silence grow between them. _You jerk, what's the big mystery… _

She crossed her legs at the knee and ticked off the seconds with flicks of her foot. The cigarette turned to ashes between her fingers. "Steeeeve?" She purred, saccharine sweet. _Well, so much for getting rid of the anger…_

His head was tilted and his eyes blinked as they met hers. Then, he grimaced. She noticed suddenly that his hand had been toying with a small object for several seconds, a button torn from the oxford he had been wearing when they had met earlier in the day. "Yeah. It's me." He admitted. "I'm a shit for not telling you." He pocketed the scrap of cloth and forced himself into a straighter position, eyes fixed on the rectangle of light across the deck. The sheets continued their nighttime dance, mindless and absorbing as a screensaver. His eyes shifted as he watched her out of the corner of his eye. "You're pretty pissed…"

"You think? You could have told me when you walked into the Café! You could have told me when Konaga- san left! You've had hours to fricking let me know that you were friends with Keitaro. Why the big goddamned mystery?" _Well, at least I feel better! _She lit another cigarette and heard the sound of a zipper. He was rooting around in his backpack and she was curious, but a childish impulse made her keep her eyes straight ahead, refusing to concede even a gaze to him. _Maybe he's searching for some important thing that explains this weirdness, his lack of forthrightness… that's how it works in stories, right?_ The zip sound came again, and there was silence. And, more silence. "Am I going to get some kind of apology or what, Steve Seyama?" She frowned at the air directly in front of her.

"Hey." He said. She looked over, finally, to see him holding up a medium – length stub of cigar. "Can you give me a light?" Her eyes widened and then closed. She shook her head with a sigh and allowed it to fall backward, against the railing behind her.

"Oh, sure. Of course. How rude of me, not to think of you." She held out her lighter and their hands touched during the exchange. "How did you meet Keitaro, Steve, and why are you visiting? Are you here because of the baby?" He held up a finger, requesting a second's grace as he leaned his head forward.

The flare of the lighter provided a sudden still – life for her, Steve's head and hands limned in the golden – red glow of flame. Focusing on the miniature tableau again brought home how large he was, his hands alone as they made short, practiced movements manipulating the lighter and cigar were as large as her entire head. The wiry hairs on their backs, and his eyebrows and eyelashes, turned golden in the light.

He handed back the lighter and he seemed transfigured, a different creature. _I'm so tired and irritated that I'm delusional, now. There should be some kind of plastic warning label wrapped around men: 'could be dangerous if approached when exhausted. Do not converse with when on medication. Consult your physician if exposed for extended length of time.' _

_Come to think of it, the plastic should be wrapped around their mouths… then, a good beating. _She smiled, suddenly.

The smell of his cigar was calming. He stifled a yawn with the back of his hand and took a puff, exhaling with a small and pleased grunt. "How do I know Keitaroooo..?" He posed the question to the dancing laundry, drawling out the end vowel sound as he spoke around the cigar in his mouth

"Yes! You are so damned irritating, Steve!" Her hand curved around in a short arc and thwacked solidly into his shoulder, a flat meaty sound. _A good beating. _

"Urk. Okay, okay." _Damn him! _She knew he was smiling. "I met him in Mexico when his South Pacific Studies course at Berkeley took a sidetrack. We were both working for Seta on a small dig near Creel, about four hours out from Chihuahua. We lived in the same tent for about three weeks at the site, and before he went back to Japan he spent a few days at my house."

"Oh." _That's it?_ "You're an archeologist?" The cigarette was nearly out and, worse, the nicotine wasn't helping keep her alert. _What an anticlimax._ The edge of her frustration was blunted by… by mundanity. She reached back behind her and stubbed the cigarette out on the underside of one of the wooden deck slats, then placed the remains beside her. Her eyes were dry and she rubbed at them. "I mean, I'm sure that you guys come in all shapes and sizes, and Harrison Ford's very humpable, but… I would have never thought that you were a… a scientist." The trees surrounding the annex rustled their own soft commentary on the conversation.

He chuckled. "Nope." She saw the shadowed forms of his hands rise into the air as he held them in front of himself. "I was pretty much there to use these. Just a strong back. Definitely not my thing. I followed Seta or Bones around…"

_There it was again! _"Bones? You've been saying that all day…"

"Bones is the nickname we gave Keitaro. The Tarahumara Indians we worked with called Seta 'El Arqueólogo.' They called Keitaro 'El Poco Hueso.' That means 'little bone…'"

_What?_ She started to laugh. "Oh! Oh, no! Poor Kietaro… half a world away and he still can't get respect! 'Little bone!'" _That's perfect, oh yeah! _Her laughter took a decidedly evil turn. "That's going right to tape." She grabbed for the sake bottle and took a sip, still laughing so that the liquor nearly escaped from the edges of her grinning lips. "I bet he never told Naru!"

Steve was smiling as well, if uneasily. "Wait, wait, God, where's your mind going? I don't want to make him a target or anything… originally they were calling him, ah, 'el pequeño colector del hueso,' 'little bone collector guy,' because of a find he made early on in the dig. But, that got shortened over time." He started laughing. "Oh, man, this is too sad… 'little bone' was shortened over time…." He reached up rubbed at his forehead, the action visible to her more from the negative space in their strange, monochrome environment, and then stopped. He cocked his head and frowned. "Do you hear something? Or am I so tired I'm imagining things?"

The indistinct sounds of voices and laughter drifted to her ears from over the rooftop. _Someone's home. _

"…And…soccer player… sooooo cute! But then… studying…" _That was Shinobu's giggle, no mistaking it._

"Ooh, my! And… friends? Studying in the library… very hard course." _The response had to be Mutsumi._

Kitsune smiled. "No, you're okay. The late train came in."

"I swear, there's some kind of noise, like a whistle." He wiggled his pinky finger in his ear.

"Maybe you're being punished for being such a secretive jerk?"

The voices disappeared, blending into the night sounds. Steve was silent and she wondered if she had offended him. _That would make us even, then._ She tried passing him the bottle and he took it, but she still felt awkward. Time slowed, the both of them content to simply sit under the stars. Now she herself heard a distant whistling sound. _Was that a plane? _It seemed to be getting closer… _Oop, it's gone._

Steve still hadn't come clean with why he was in Hinata, but for the moment it was comfortable to feel his presence next to her. Her eyes were half - lidded as she considered really pressing him or giving in to the lassitude brought on by the rigors of the day. _I never would have dreamed of the day I've had, yesterday at this time. _He passed the bottle back to her, his face wreathed in smoke, just barely visible to her night – adjusted eyes.

A high – pitched whistle ripped through the darkness above them. Echoing from the hills that cupped the Hinata House complex, the sound dopplered down the scale and then, just as suddenly as it began, it diminished to silence. Minutes passed. Startled frogs tentatively restarted their gossip and Steve turned towards her, his mouth open to speak. His face clenched as a nova of blue – white radiance flared from the backside of the Hinata House. Then, just like the whistle, the pervasive light was gone. Kitsune could feel her hair settling back with the conclusion of the event. She and Steve both blinked urgently to dispel afterimages as, somewhere in the middle distance, a siren in the town began to blat out an alert, then ceased.

"What the hell was that?" Steve demanded, on his feet and halfway to the stairs. "Was that an explosion?"

"Kaolla Su." Kitsune replied. "Got to be." She sighed and threw up her hands. "Don't worry, I'm sure that exposure's not lethal. She does have Naru and the baby to consider… she's usually very good about that kind of stuff."

She made out his expression and began to laugh, despite how she felt. Or, perhaps because of how she felt. _It's been a really long time since someone got under my skin this way. In less than a day…!_

Idly, she began to think about the shared bottle as an indirect kiss and was surprised to feel heat rushing to her cheeks. _This is messed up… I'm the bold one, I'm the wild one, I'm the one who tempts the guy with indirect kisses and flirtatious shit. Hell, I haven't had much to drink at ALL… maybe I'm sick?_ She pursed her lips in thought and tried to detect cold symptoms. She discreetly felt her forehead… no fever… then took a meditative pull at the sake.

"The Tarahumara hombres," Steve stated, sitting back down and breaking the silence uncertainly as he attempted to restart an explanation, "were really friendly with Bo… Keitaro. They liked him a lot because, well, you know how he is. He was friendly and approachable, didn't intimidate them because he was about the same size, not as big as Seta and definitely smaller than me… they felt a whole lot more comfortable around him. " He raised a hand for the sake bottle. "Hrmph, almost gone." He nodded his head towards Kitsune. "You said that you thought Kietaro had a 'true soul.' Should it surprise you that an Indian tribe half a world away could sense what a nice guy he is? It took me about ten minutes of talking with him to feel like I'd known him forever." He grinned again. "'Bones' seemed like a logical extension of what they were calling him already… I mean, what else are you going to call a stick figure like Keitaro who pulls a burial jar full of bones out of the ground in front of you?" He snorted and waggled the bottle in the air. He held it out to her. "Just a mouthful left…"

She took the final sip, the dry Karatamba running across her tongue and down her throat, warmer now than she enjoyed, usually. _I put this bottle to good use. _She placed it down next to the cigarette butt. _My collection of used – up things. _She frowned. _That wasn't a nice thought, was it?_

She rubbed her nose and breathed in sharply. _Okay, time for the other hard question._ "Fine, you know Keitaro, you decide to be all 'mystery guy' and don't let on to me. So… he must have told you a ton of stories. Single guy, landlord of a girl's dorm…" She stretched and elbowed him in the ribs, forcing herself to chuckle. "Pretty single girls around all the time. Lots of stories, oh, yeah…"

_How obvious am I being, here?_

Steve was silent, the flaring end of his cigar revealing a composed expression, eyes looking in the distance, mouth turned up slightly at the edges. He almost looked… embarrassed?

Kitsune's laugh was a bit ragged, even as her mind slipped into angst overdrive. _Was Steve looking at me or was he looking at a human embodiment of Kitsune stories when he smiled at me the first time? When he asked me out?_ She felt nauseous as the seconds dragged in real time. _When he defended me and gave up the money for me? I thought it was because he was enamored… but he was standing up for Keitaro's friend Kitsune. _

_What did Keitaro tell him? Why is he here, then, with me?_

A bolt of ice – cold clarity, like an icicle through her chest: _When it really seems to matter to me, am I going to have to answer for all the partying, all the flirting and manipulation?_ _Did he make me dinner because he thought he could…, because some story made him think… _She clutched at the edges of her skirt with white knuckles. The more her mind whirled through the question, the more her emotions became dependent on the answer. _I've got to know… he might not be interested in ME at all! _

"Well, as for stories... " Steve began, but before he could continue she rolled up onto her knees, facing him, her ankle contacting the empty sake bottle and making it wobble in place, the rattling sound quite loud as it settled. Even sitting, due to his height she was only just eye - to - eye with him in her kneeling position. He reached up and took the nearly – finished cigar out of his mouth. "Kitsune…"

Her mouth twisted into a self – mocking smile, eyes feeling as if they were full of sand. She again forced a laugh. It sounded bitter to her ears. "So, big boy, what did Keitaro say about me in these stories? Do I live up to the hype?"

He frowned in puzzlement at the question, and then slowly smiled, reaching out with a hand to touch her wrist. "Kitsune," He shrugged. "It doesn't matter what Keitaro said…"

His smile froze at her expression. Slowly, he drew his hand back. "Ah, wait, that really came out wrong… what I meant was…"

She grinned a slow, cold grin and it seemed even the encircling clouds above Hinata drew back in their tropospheric tracks. Her eyebrow began to twitch. "What Keitaro… said? Said, about me?"

"No, wait… let me explain…" Steve held out his other hand, forgetting the cigar in it. A thread of smoke twisted in the air between them.

The complicated streams of emotions from the day, attraction and hope, fear and frustration, irritation and self - consciousness, coagulated in her gut with the booze and, because she was who she was, they ignited. In her mind the stuttering sound of revving chainsaws and the clash of metal sang an industrial aria.

…_doesn't matter…_

A

…_what Keitaro… _

GOOD

…_said?_

BEATING!

The cry was short and very loud, starting deep in her chest and ending as something between a hiccup and a sob. She didn't remember moving but suddenly she was on top of Steve, her hands filled with his thick black hair, her feet in the Bonta - Kun slippers scrambling for leverage under his body, as she began forcing his head repeatedly against the railing behind him. "You… condescending … asshole … sonovabitch!"

"Hey, hey, hey! Kitsune… Ow! Jesus Christ!"

She leaned forward and gasped raggedly into his ear, still grasping his hair tightly and bearing down with all of her weight. "I don't care what the hell… Keitaro told you about… " Only blood felt this hot, she must be bleeding down her cheeks, drops burning her arms. "I've got no goddamned regrets and if y - you think… that care what you think of me… I…I…" She couldn't say any more, she could only hang on with frantic strength and in the back of her mind wonder why she had snapped.

"Enough!" He said. He reached up and detached her hands with effortless strength, holding her wrists even as her fingers came away clutching hair. Now that her balance had shifted, she was intensely aware that her weight waspressed against his body, straddling him in her skirt, her breasts tight against his chest. Her eyes opened wide as they looked into his, expressionless as a moss covered rock, inches away. Her face was covered with… it must be tears, not blood. And, her nose was running.

Just as quickly as the flames of emotion exploded, they flickered and turned to ash. The nausea was back. She closed her eyes. _Lost it, Kitsune, you hysterical idiot…_

"Mitsune Konno," He said, slowly, his deep voice whispering, "I'm sorry that you don't care what I think of you."

She winced and bit her lip. _Does Naru know this horrible feeling?_

"I apologize for misspeaking a moment ago. I should have phrased things differently. Because," he raised an eyebrow, "you asked so politely… nearly everything that Keitaro told me about his life in Japan centered on his lovely bride, Naru. Sure, he told me stories about some of the parties at Hinata house and the craziness of life here…"

Steve stopped. There was a noise in the night sky, not the whistle again, but something… a flapping sound, like a flag in a high wind, and it was getting louder. It was not the laundry, which continued to billow gently within their sight. Kitsune raised her moist face to the moon and gasped. A silhouette was visible against the glowing circle, a slim figure, blurred with motion along the edges, was falling towards them. It raised something in both black arms, a sliver of glowing ebony, spiked green fire like an electrical discharge dancing along its length.

She rolled her eyes. _Oh, shit, this is all I need! _"It's Motoko!" She attempted to pitch herself off of him but Steve held gently firm to her wrists. "Let go!"

There was a soft thump and a swordswoman stood before them, silhouetted now by the rectangle of light coming from the stairs. "Let her go, villain!" the figure said, pointing a black katana at the pair. "Or I will make you pay." Green sparks spit from the length of the katana, reflected in the woman's eyes.

Steve raised his eyebrows. "Huh? Attacking an innocent guy doesn't sound like the 'sword of justice' Motoko that Keitaro described to me."

The dark haired woman slid a step closer, her sword rising to eye level and tilting to the horizontal plane as she settled into a thrusting crouch. "Flattery and deception will not sway me. Let Kitsune go! I won't allow you to keep her as a hostage…"

Kitsune pivoted as much as she could in her position to see her friend. "Motoko, it's… it's not what you think."

"Look, ladies…" Steve said, raising himself and Kitsune into a straighter position with one convulsive jerk of his stomach and hips. Kitsune yelped and Motoko slid forward another half – step.

"No, Motoko!"

"Do not move!" A new voice spoke, loud and electronically projected, sourcing from the air behind them. Suddenly the deck above the annex was illuminated in a wash of halogen whiteness,pouring from a large turtle – shaped aircraft hovering above the trees. "Hinata House security plan 'Ikari' has been executed. Any further hostile actions, or if you act like a whiny bitch EVA pilot, and you will be tazed unmercifully…"

"ENOUGH!" Steve bellowed, his voice immense. "Give a guy a chance here, okay!" He released Kitsune's wrists and she fell against his chest. She stayed that way for a second, eyes closed, smelling him, and then she turned, still sitting on top of his stomach. She wiped at her nose and cheeks with a sleeve and then attempted a grin and wink.

"I'm okay!" Kitsune started, voice cracking. "I'm OKAY." She yelled, when Motoko did not move. She stood up from Steve, stumbling slightly, and stepped away. She held up her arms for emphasis. "Viola! All good!"

Motoko, hair falling down her back in a midnight waterfall, dressed in jeans and a leather fringed jacket, red scarf around her neck, dipped her head in acknowledgement. Black leather bowling shoes slid back as she shifted her weight. Then came the formal movements and the scraping sound as the cursed Urashima blade was sheathed. "We heard a scream. The security system said that you were up here with a question mark." Her eyes, intense chips of gleaming onyx, shifted to Steve. Motoko was sounding less pissed than resigned. _Just great._

"Steve Seyama." Steve said, dryly, and waved a hand. "Nice to meetcha." He added in English.

"Hrmm." Motoko grumbled, tossing her hair. Then, awkwardly, she gave an acknowledging wave. "Hi."

"Steve is a friend of Keitaro's from the United States." The words spilled out in a stream of unburdening. "He stopped by the Café and I brought him here and he made dinner and we were just having a discussion about Urashima's experiences in America," she was talking as fast as she could, "and about some events from earlier in the day and I got a little…" she looked around to see reactions, "a little upset."

Silence. Motoko shifted uncomfortably, then shrugged. "So," she said, "You were up here with this man that you just met…"

"Were you getting some?" Kaolla Su's voice boomed from her aircraft. "If we interrupted your action, we can go…" Motoko nodded, turning her head away.

Kitsune's heart dropped. _I try to deny my past, but it catches up with me. My own friends are telling him I'm a slut!_ Her chest was tight with emotion. She couldn't bring herself to look at Steve after her dramatics. Then, she heard him start to chuckle and she turned to face him.

Steve rose to his feet. Motoko edged back a step. "Benkei…" she whispered within Kitsune's hearing, and her hand sought her blade hilt.

"Holy shit! Kitsune, you're getting it on with a humanoform Boomer?" Su's amazed voice again shook the trees. "Is that what you've been keeping in that closet of yours? Where did you fit him?"

The turtle - craft started to bounce up and down. "Y'know, that's way more advanced than my kissing machine…" The eagerness in her voice was palpable. "Can I disassemble it when you're done?"

Steve stepped closer to Kitsune. "I don't know why you freaked out, Kitsune, but I can tell you that you need to have more faith in Keitaro. He trusts you." Steve shook his head slightly, and she gasped, a numbness rising through her limbs. "You want to know what he said about you? He said you're one of his best friends. He said that you were the one who convinced everyone to let him stay at Hinata House on the first day he arrived. He said that you told him to think of you as his big sister and that the gesture meant a great deal to him."

Motoko mouthed the words "big sister" with raised eyebrows and dawning interest. In her mind's eye, Kitsune remembered Keitaro's first day as well… how she wanted him to stay so that she could seduce him. Blood rushed to her cheeks.

Steve moved even closer, his mouth just inches away from her ear. She could see nothing but his face, hear nothing but his words. "Just like you said earlier today, he said that you were one of his family, the people he truly loves to be with."

He stepped back and his head turned as he regarded her, Motoko, and the hovering Kaolla. He covered his eyes with a hand and looked out of the halogen envelope lighting the deck, towards the darkness and city by the shore. His head swung back to Kitsune. "I know you don't care what I feel, Kitsune, but…" He stepped forward slowly until he was towering directly over her. After a moment he leaned forward, took the bottom of his t- shirt and began to dab at her face, under her nose. She could feel heat rising through her entire body and she wanted very badly to lean into him as he stood there, to reach up, grab the back of his neck and hold on.

He raised his eyebrows and grinned, as if he knew what she was thinking. "You probably believed that I was going to kiss you…" The grin expanded into a dimple – framed smile. "Maybe later." He turned, reached down and grabbed his backpack. "I'm going to go. Thanks for the hospitality."

"Steve?" She said, dumbfounded. _He's just…leaving?_

"I think I need to leave, Kitsune. You're working at the Café tomorrow, yes? Okay, I'll stop by to visit." He turned to face her, blocking the light with his height and wide shoulders. "I promise you, I'll explain as much as I can about why I'm visiting." He gave a small bow to Motoko. "It was wonderful to finally meet you, Motoko. Thanks for not killing me." He winced and rubbed at the back of his head. "Kitsune came close enough. Ladies, I can find my own way out." He turned and, chuckling, he walked across the deck and disappeared down the stairway.

_How did this happen… all this intensity and time spent and now, he's gone?_

"You look like you've been lobotomized." Motoko observed, her lips curving.

"Preeetty much…" Kitsune agreed, inhaling deeply of the night air. She raised her arms, fingers interlaced on top of her head and her cheeks puffed as she exhaled.

The aircraft dipped its shell and turned off the floodlights. "Guys, I'm shutting down the 'Ikari' and heading back to the barn… sensors say that the big man is out of the building and I've got to get that Mark 12 away from Emma." With a whir and the grinding sound made by the shift of VTOL fans, the now invisible craft moved away.

"You gave a gun to Emma?" Kitsune gaped at Motoko, an expression wasted in the now dim light.

"She's been certified," the other woman replied, defensively. "Besides, it's only a stun – rifle. Someone had to back Shinobu up and I don't feel that she's sufficiently far along in her martial arts studies to utilize more… elegant defensive measures." Motoko's hand fell on her sword hilt as she paced along the deck for several feet, then she turned back towards Kitsune. "So, what's up with that guy. That huge guy. That huge cute guy?"

Kitsune flopped to the deck, eyes troubled. "I don't know. I can't remember the last time I've been this screwed up about a man."

Motoko began to laugh, doubling over with the intensity.

"Oh, shut up you shojo – loving romance novelist." Laughter in the darkness. "You suck." More laughter, an honest – to – goodness snort. From Motoko.

_Is this day over yet? I've got to open the Café tomorrow…!_

Kitsune's cel phone began to ring, chiming out the clockwork notes of Yoko Kanno's "Hemisphere." Motoko muffled her laughter as Kitsune fumbled through her small purse for the phone.

"Hello? Steve?" _Maybe he..?_

A man's voice spoke through a flurry of background noise. "Kitsune – san? This is Konaga- san."

Her heart rose up in her throat, surprise and sudden nervousness combining. _I'm too tired for this shit, damnit! Leave me alone! _"Hello, Konaga- san… so, ah, how did everything go?"

There was singing in the background and the man spoke loudly to make himself heard. "Saiga – sama no longer owns your note… someone has bought out the debt. Someone who wants to collect it personally."

_WHAT? _

"What the hell does that mean, Konaga- san? Who bought what?"

"Kitsune – san, this no longer concerns you. It is Seyama – san." The noise in the background rose to a crescendo and the sound of applause could be heard. "Can you hear me, Kitsune – san? Your debt has been sold and the buyer is looking for Seyama – san. Do you understand?"

_What the hell is going on? _"I understand, Konaga- san…" She repeated back his words to him, her tone stilted with disbelief. Motoko moved closer, listening attentively.

"Who," Kitsune began, her throat dry, "Who bought the debt?"

Konaga was silent for a moment, the background noise on the phone incongruently merry. "Tell Seyama – san… tell him that the Brave Blossoms are coming to see him. In Hinata."

"The who?"

Konaga raised his voice for emphasis. "Tell Seyama – san. The Brave Blossoms."

* * *

Notes:

Thanks to KS, Naruflip, Black Rose, Mr.Quette and Flak. And, to those members of the Burnham crew who have had the opportunity to review - yes, Guinness IS a part of the food pyramid… the most important part!

As you might have seen, this is fanfic 1A for me. I appreciate your help, comments and criticism. Please, continue to let me know what you think.

crihavoc


End file.
